Time Passages
by Incatnito
Summary: Mac's trip to interview a witness doesn't go exactly as planned...
1. Default Chapter

A little something that's been tickling my brain. Events in my itty-bitty corner of the universe have just about caught up with this season (stopping short of Ice Queen). There's been a little trouble in paradise but hey, it's H & M - so what else is new? Anyway, this is a tad different (providing I can make this work... ) and it all goes back to that old cliche: The more things change, the more they stay the same.   
  
Disclaimers: Taking them out to play, promise to put them back. All characters of JAG belong to Donald Bellasario and Bellasarius Productions; no copyright infringement intended.  
  
Part 1  
  
Palos Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1740 Local  
  
Mac opened the back door of the government sedan she was driving and heaved her briefcase in. It would have been better to have placed it on the passenger side of the front seat, but she felt like throwing something and this was going to have to hold her until she had a bit more privacy to vent. Later, when she found some place to spend the night, she could blow off a little verbal steam at not being able to easily reach the recalcitrant case. Climbing into the front seat, she shifted the map she'd bought earlier out of her way and contemplated what to do next. This was all Harm's fault... Well, actually it wasn't, but in her current mood, she was willing to blame him anyway. If he hadn't been someone that Admiral Boone thought so highly of, he wouldn't be out of the country right now, they wouldn't be so short-handed at JAG - and she wouldn't be here. Damn, she missed him!  
  
It had been six months since the Bacovian 'incident' - to use the SecNav's (former SecNav, Mac amended) term. In that six months, life had gone from what Mac had cautiously considered pretty damn good to what she, in her darker moments, thought of as f---ing normal. The two weeks in La Jolla with Trish and Frank Burnett had been amazing. It could hardly have been anything less. Harm's parents were as determined to like her as she was to like them. It would have been blasphemous if all that effort had failed. She and Trish had bonded over their shared interest in Harm and several obligatory and spectacular shopping trips. Surprisingly, it was with Frank that she had felt a real connection. The scientific basis of their interests - hers, paleontology; his, astronomy - had led to some rather free-wheeling discussions. He reminded her of Uncle Matt. He was someone she could depend on.  
  
As she had recovered, her normal nocturnal habits had reasserted themselves and she would wind up on the patio at odd hours of the night, listening to the pounding of the surf and watching the phosphorescence of the waves breaking on shore. The third night of her wanderings had found Frank up as well, immersed in his study of the universe. It became a habit for the two of them. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn't. Conversations ranged from the serious (the current, crazy condition of the world) to the silly (Frank had stumbled on an Internet conversation about an alternate energy source called BCA - Buttered Cat Array. The premise was that toast always lands butter side down and cats always land on their feet. Attach toast, butter side up on the back of a cat and drop from a suitable height - the opposing forces would result in a perpetual spin just above ground level. They had kept each other in stitches with a multitude of theories for harnessing BCA for the benefit of mankind and the military.) Add that to all the blissful hours spent with Harm and it was hard to decide who was more disappointed that the leave had ended, she and Harm or the Burnetts.  
  
Now, six months later, Mac was pretty sure she had the disappointment ball firmly in her court. Irritatingly, it wasn't some big blow-up that was causing her current funk, but a series of incidents - some big and some small. The first had been her little foray with Webb into Afghanistan. It hadn't been the knife attack that rattled her so much as having Gunny shoot the Taliban soldier who had been about to blow holes in her. That she had turned her back on an enemy without making sure he was neutralized had been incredibly stupid. Clay had been more than willing to keep the whole incident from Harm but her aviator had found out anyway. He'd been more hurt than angry that she hadn't said anything to him. Harm was fixating on the danger of the initial attack but she was dwelling on what would have been, except for Gunny's reflexes, a fatal error in judgment.  
  
In their next foray into Afghanistan, she'd followed that lapse up with an attempt to kill Harm by dumping him in a mine field. Rabb luck had cancelled out her inattention to driving (their own version of BCA, she thought dryly). Although she was the one who ultimately had figured out how to get him out in one piece, the fact remained that she had also put him there in the first place. What the hell was the matter with her? Thank God their choice to camp where air strikes had been called in was a mutual decision. She didn't know if she could stand one more blunder from herself. Webb had pegged it - it was embarrassing. The next few days had actually seemed... well, if not normal, then at least par for the course, up to and including Harm playing 'Catch Me If You Can' with a dirty nuke. Saving the day was what he did best and, face it, doing it while strapped into a Tomcat was what he loved best.  
  
And then there was Bud. Things like that weren't supposed to happen to guys like him. It had been a school dedication ceremony for godsakes! Things had changed slightly after that. They had changed. Helplessness was a part of it. There was no way to ride in and save the day with something like this. That had rankled and then exacerbated the survivor guilt they were both feeling. They had waltzed out of a minefield with a movie gimmick and a few flippant remarks. All without a scratch and it wasn't fair that Bud had paid the price. Initially, they had drawn together for support as they waited for word outside sickbay. It was after Bud had started on his long road to recovery that they'd somehow withdrawn from each other.  
  
Irrational and stupid, Mac thought bitterly to herself, rubbing her forehead as she stared absently out the window. That pretty much described both of them. What had happened to Bud had hit way too close to home. It wasn't like either one of them was unfamiliar with death. What she hadn't thought about was being maimed and she was willing to bet that Harm hadn't either. There was no way she could face what Bud was facing and she felt like the worst kind of coward and hypocrite. The stress had made them both short-tempered. They had scurried in opposite directions, opting for space to buffer any harsh words.  
  
That chink in their bond had been widened by what Mac could only consider as pettiness. They were equally to blame. Harm had tanked one of his cases and gotten pulled off by Chegwidden. The blow to his pride had him skirting the borders of Willful Disobedience but, in the end, he had ferreted out the truth. And so had she, coming at it from another angle entirely. They never actually broached the fact that his quest had been superfluous and that, just possibly, he didn't have a corner on the market for justice. Doing so would have only made her angry that he had such little faith in her commitment to the truth. She knew him well enough to realize that he had never considered it from that particular angle. His focus had been entirely on finding the truth - and vindicating himself. For the sake of peace, Mac was willing to let it slide. Unfortunately, it was an entirely different fallout from that case that had turned the widening chink into a chasm.  
  
Chegwidden had appointed her to the bench and her first case had been to preside over Harm and Sturgis. Normally supportive, Harm had seen red. He'd been passed over and he took it personally. She'd been hard-pressed not to find him in contempt. It was a side of him she hadn't enjoyed seeing and she'd been somewhat shocked when he broke one of his own rules about leaving it in the courtroom. His biting remarks at Bud and Harriet's Open House had stung.  
  
Well, when it was his turn on the bench, she had fired back with some pettiness of her own. In her own defense, she really did think Harm was indulging in a little payback. Never, in her years of litigation, had the judge objected to her opening statement. It was downhill from there. It had also proved to be the low-water mark. Now, things were slowly on the mend.   
  
Unfortunately, they'd hit a plateau of sorts. She was finding herself more on the bench and less with the investigation of cases. While it was flattering to find she had an aptitude for the judiciary, it also meant that she saw considerably less of Harm. She was beginning to think the fates were conspiring against them. The one investigation they had finally been partnered on had resulted with her replacing a pregnant Loren Singer on board the Patrick Henry for the next three weeks. That the Lieutenant was pregnant at all had been a helluva shock. That hadn't made her investigation into whether Loren had gotten pregnant during the cruise any easier. There was also the annoying fact that Harm knew something and had decided not to share. There was nothing she could do about it - he'd had gone off to Naples on a case with Manetti.  
  
When she got back to JAG, finding time to spend together hadn't gotten any easier. Tom Boone had snagged Harm to help deal with the Chinese and he'd barely made it back for the Roberts' Christmas party. It seemed that when he wasn't out of town on various cases then she was so busy that, by the time she finally stumbled home, all she could think about was sleeping. None of which was conducive to working on their relationship. Now Harm was off again. Admiral Boone wanted him for some assignment or other, for who knew how long. With Singer on maternity leave, Manetti at Pearl and Bud restricted from field investigations, she had found herself in tiny, little Palos, Virginia on a Thursday night. Nestled in the Shenandoah Valley up against the George Washington National Forest, the drive had been beautiful. She would have enjoyed it more had it been on her own time and in her own car. Unfortunately, time was what she was pressed for. That fact had entirely escaped the main reason she was out here.  
  
Master Chief Branson Bedford Bollings, retired/disabled. (He had smiled and told her that she could call him Tribby if she liked, most folks in these parts did. Not that there was anything wrong with his name, mind you, it was all them 'Bs' in a row and, well, people had just naturally started calling him that since oh... way back when. Now his brother... ) It had taken Mac 12 minutes and 34 seconds to get the man back on track. It had taken him only 2 minutes and 17 seconds to veer off on another tangent. The entire interview had gone that way. What should have taken, at most, 90 minutes or so had dragged out to 3 hours and 42 minutes. She had planned on being back in DC tonight but that was before the interview from hell. Now she was exhausted and pissed and driving back right now didn't seem like the wisest move. Part of the problem was construction on the Interstate. She had passed a massive jam on 64/81 on her way out and now, being rush hour, it was probably ten times as bad. The three hour trip could easily turn into five.  
  
She rubbed the back of her neck and then dug into her purse for her cell phone. First things first, she'd call JAG and let them know that she wouldn't be back tonight. Ten minutes later, she ended the call and swore vehemently to herself. She'd wound up talking to Admiral Chegwidden. Major Hardesty had had an appendicitis attack and they needed her back sooner rather than later. She had to be on the bench by 0900 and that meant that she had very little time to get caught up on the case. It also meant she needed to get to JAG tonight to pick up the paperwork. Mac grabbed the map. The Interstate was out of the question so she'd have to find an alternate route. It looked like going by way of Harrisonburg would be her best bet. She could get through the mountains on the state highway and come up through Culpepper. Throwing the car into gear, she headed out.  
  
As she drove down the little country roads on her way to Harrisonburg, she kept half an eye on the dark clouds beginning to gather over the Blue Ridge Mountains. Perfect, Mac thought to herself, with the luck she'd been having today, she'd hit the mountains at the same time the storm did. Mother Nature, however, was operating on her own timetable and Mac wasn't much past Harrisonburg before the heavens opened up. Slowed to a crawl as visibility dropped, she finally gave it up when a neon sign proclaiming 'White Horse Grill' slowly loomed out of the mist and rain. Pulling into the nearly empty parking lot, she maneuvered as close as she could to the front door. Shutting off the car, Mac sat there for a moment watching the rain pound down without any indication of easing. Even with the short distance she had to go, she was going to get soaked. Briefly, she berated herself for not transferring her duffel to the trunk of this car before she left. She'd been in a hurry, though. This trip had become necessary at the last minute and she spent the morning, rushing around, delegating what she could to the staff. Mac sighed and eyed the rain that was now whipping sideways. It was only water, she would dry while she ate and, hopefully, the storm would blow through.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her purse and threw open the car door. The strength of the wind surprised her as she forced the car door shut. Heavy gusts swirled and battered her as she made it to the building and wrestled the front door open. The abrupt lack of resistance made Mac stagger as she stepped inside and then the wind curled around the door, yanking it out of her hand and slamming it shut. Straightening up, she took a moment to orient herself and then shivered.   
  
"My lands, child, you're soaked to the bone. You'll catch your death." Mac took a swipe at the water dripping down her face and turned in the direction of the voice. Coming towards her was a small, gray-haired woman, wiping her hands on her apron. Without giving Mac a chance to reply, she called over her shoulder, "Anthony Wade! Bring some towels out here, please!" Moments later, she was herding the Marine Colonel towards the 'ladies' powder room' with all the efficiency of a Gunnery Sergeant. Anthony Wade met them in the hallway, his arms full of towels. He was a handsome young man, Mac noted, late teens or early twenties with skin the color of dark, roasted coffee. He'd stopped dead in the hall, his eyes widening, making Mac uncomfortably aware of just how her wet uniform was clinging.  
  
The small woman was having none of it, "Anthony Wade Davis! Close your mouth and put your eyes back in your head. I know your Mama raised you better than that. Give me those towels and see if you can find something dry for this poor woman to wear before she winds up with pneumonia."  
  
"Ma'am, really, that's not necessary," Mac interrupted, "The towels will be fine, thank you. I'm sure you both have more important things to do."  
  
The woman turned bright, dark eyes towards her, "Nonsense. I'm not so old that I don't remember how uncomfortable wet clothing can be." She sent a pointed look at Anthony Wade who beat a hasty retreat. Looking back at Mac she gestured towards the ladies' room, "Go get out of those wet things. We'll hang them up in the kitchen and see how fast they'll dry."  
  
Mac tried one more time to dissuade the woman, "Please, Mrs. ... "  
  
The woman smiled, "Annabel Avis Payne Simpson and you would be?"  
  
"Sarah MacKenzie, Mrs. Simpson. Honestly, ma'am, I'll be fine. I don't want to keep you or Anthony Wade from your work."  
  
Annabel waved a hand, "You're not keeping us from anything. I sent our cook home about half an hour ago. We're closed, I just hadn't locked the front doors yet."  
  
Mac tried not to let her dismay show on her face. Dammit, she hadn't had anything since breakfast this morning. This day just kept getting better and better. She started handing towels back to Mrs. Simpson, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize. I'll find another place to stop along the way."  
  
Annabel pushed the towels back at her, "If you're heading through the mountains, you won't find another place for quite a spell. Storm took the power out up that way. That's one of the reasons I sent Ridley home; his wife's one of the Huntingtons from down Tidewater way. Flatlanders tend to get a tad panicky during these mountain storms." She cocked her head to one side, "Truth to tell, Anthony Wade and I haven't had supper yet, either. I can rustle up food for three just as easily as two. I believe Ridley left us pot roast." Thunder crashed overhead, making the building vibrate. Annabel glanced up towards the ceiling, "It's not safe to be on the road right now anyway. Now, go on and get dried off, I'm going to see if that boy has found something for you to put on."  
  
Fifteen minutes later, she was sitting in the kitchen with Anthony Wade in what she suspected were his sweats. They were close in size. She sat and watched Annabel bustle about the kitchen and Anthony Wade watched her. The little woman hummed happily to herself as she lifted lids and stirred. Abruptly, she turned around and shook her spoon at Anthony Wade, causing both him and Mac to jump. "Mr. Davis! If you have a question for Ms. MacKenzie, I suggest you ask. Staring at her like that without speaking is a mite rude."  
  
Anthony Wade's mouth open and shut soundlessly as his eyes darted nervously between the two women. Annabel took pity on him and decided to get the conversational ball rolling. She looked over the dark-haired woman sitting at the table. "We don't get many military folks out this way - not in the last hundred and forty years or so, anyway. Are you in the Army?"  
  
Mac tried not to cringe, "Marine Corps, ma'am. I'm an attorney with the Navy's Judge Advocate General's office in Falls Church." She caught Anthony Wade stifling a smile out of the corner of her eye and gave him a companionable grin. He, at least, seemed to be aware of the tender regard the Corps held for their dog-faced brothers-in-arms.  
  
Annabel absently stirred another pot, "Do tell. Does that mean you're an officer?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Mac nodded, "I'm a Lieutenant Colonel and the Chief of Staff for Admiral Chegwidden."  
  
"I declare, that's pretty high up the pecking order, isn't it? What are you doing out this way - if you don't mind my asking?" This came from over Annabel's shoulder as her activity around the stove increased.  
  
"I needed to interview a potential witness. He's unable to travel, so here I am." Mac's eyes lit up when plates piled high with food appeared in front of her and Anthony Wade. A platter of biscuits and a pitcher of iced tea followed.  
  
A moment later, Annabel sat down with her own plate. She fluttered a hand at them, "Go on now, don't let it get cold." The next few minutes were devoted strictly to eating.  
  
As the first edge was taken off her hunger, Mac looked from Anthony Wade to Annabel. "How long have you owned this place?"  
  
Annabel leaned back a bit and sipped at her iced tea, "My husband, God rest his soul, and I have had it for thirty-five years but it's been in the family since about 1874. It was a tavern right up 'til Prohibition. We never got back to selling liquor, so it became the 'White Horse Grill'." She smiled at Anthony Wade, "It'll be this young man's place next. His momma, Eula Mae, and I have been friends since we were knee-high to a grasshopper. Of all our children, Anthony Wade's the only one who's been interested in staying here and keeping the family business." She shook her head, "Young people these days seem to want to have more and more things - need a high-paying city job to pay for it all. Can't imagine being that closed in with concrete and glass all the time; all that noise and the air so thick you can see it. No thank you. My girls keep after me to move in with them but I don't think I'd last long away from the Valley."  
  
Mac nodded thoughtfully, "You're probably right." She felt a little twinge of envy, wondering what it would be like to have roots so deep in one place. She glanced around the kitchen, "So this place has been here since 1874? I had no idea it was that old."  
  
"It's been here longer than that. Old Jessup McNair built it originally back around 1808. He'd come to this country from Ireland as an indentured servant. Once he worked off his debt, he crossed the Blue Ridge into the Valley. Story is he was headed for Kentucky but once he got here, he couldn't bring himself to leave. He wasn't much on farming, so he opened a general store. Later, he added a tavern. Once he got himself settled, he headed back east and found himself a bride. Brought her back here and raised up a fine family. The McNairs were good people." Annabel's voice drifted off and she sighed a little.  
  
There was silence for a few minutes as everyone quietly continued to eat. Finally, her curiosity piqued, Mac asked, "What happened to them?"  
  
"War." For a moment, Annabel's face grew hard and then it softened, "It was tragic, really. Of course, everything about that war was a tragedy. The Yankees couldn't defeat Lee in the field so they took the war to the civilians. First it was General Hunter, destroying the homes of helpless women and children. That was out of pure spite, but then Phil Sheridan came. The Shenandoah Valley was the granary of the South but when Sheridan was done, we couldn't even feed ourselves. Just about all of the men were gone, the ones that came back were mostly crippled. People were starving to death and all we heard from the North were cries of vengeance and hate. Lots of Northern folk thought the whole lot of us should have been hanged." She flashed a quick, apologetic smile at Mac, "Sorry, you were asking about the McNairs." She took another sip of tea, "Well, I suppose their story is tied to the war in the Valley. Axel McNair's two sons were killed in a skirmish down Port Republic way; war had only been going on for a few months. Only eighteen and twenty, they'd never been away from home before. Broke his wife, Mary Patrick's, heart and affected her mind as well. She would sit looking out the window all day and practically all night, talking to herself. Only thing that roused her was the sight of a blue uniform, then she'd pitch a fit. One night, around 1868 I believe, Axel came in late and she snapped. Started screaming about the Yankees and her two babies dying. Grabbed a butcher knife and buried it in Axel's chest and then ran out of the house still screaming. They never did find her."  
  
Mac sat back, amazed, "Wow, that's quite a story. So that was the end of the McNair family?"  
  
Annabel shook her head, "Almost. There was a daughter, Sophia Pike McNair, but nobody talked about her much. She'd fallen in love with a Yankee officer and ran off to marry him. After what had happened to Mary Patrick, folks around here were pretty aghast. Axel McNair up and disowned her. After the killing, my great-great-grandmother took it upon herself to let Sophie know what had happened to her parents. She and her husband moved back here but they were ostracized by the rest of neighborhood. Feelings were still bitter on both sides. One day they hitched up their buggy and headed over the mountains. Going to Stanardsville to meet her husband's cousins was what they told Granny Payne, but they never got there and they were never heard from again. Five years later, they were declared dead. When the probate court went through their papers, it turned out that Sophie had left the White Horse Tavern to my great-great-grandparents. We've had it ever since."  
  
Anthony Wade spoke up at last, "You're leaving out the best part, Miss Annabel." He turned to Mac and smiled, "The story is that Mary Patrick is still up there in the mountains, waiting for her revenge on the Yankees. They say that she met up with Sophie and her husband and spooked the horses right off the side of Massanutten Mountain." He lowered his voice, "Every year, since then, at least one car manages to go flying off the mountain... and it's always folks from up North."  
  
"Anthony Wade!" Annabel chided him, "Don't go mixing ghost stories in with the facts." She looked at Mac, "It's usually tourists who fall off the mountain and that's because they're driving too fast." She raised an eyebrow at Anthony Wade, "It's got nothing to do with ghosts."  
  
He grinned back, unrepentant, "But you have to admit, it's a good story for a stormy night."  
  
Mac laughed, "He's got you there, Miss Annabel."  
  
"So he does," Annabel smiled as well and then stood up, "Anyone interested in dessert? There's keylime pie."  
  
Mac stood up as well, shaking her head regretfully, "No thank you, ma'am. I'm afraid I need to get going. I have to be back in DC tonight." She started gathering plates.  
  
Annabel stared at her, "Tonight? Child, it's not safe on the roads just yet. This storm's not finished with us, I can feel it in my bones."  
  
"I don't have much choice, Miss Annabel," Mac replied as she stacked dishes in one of the sinks. "One of our judges had a medical emergency. I have to take his place and court is scheduled to begin at 0900 tomorrow. It doesn't give me much time to prepare." She moved over to where her uniform was hanging. Checking it, she grimaced slightly, still damp but better than it was.  
  
"Couldn't you get an early start in the morning?" Annabel persisted. "I'd be happy to put you up for the night."  
  
Mac noticed that the old woman was slowly twisting her apron into a knot. She frowned slightly and glanced over at Anthony Wade. He was watching them both with a solemn expression. Mac folded her arms, "What's going on, Miss Annabel?"  
  
"It's not safe, Sarah," Annabel said and then sighed as Mac continued to stare at her, "I don't think you're going to believe me."  
  
Mac raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly, "Is this another ghost story?"  
  
"I don't know what to call it," Annabel replied. "Do you know what today is?"  
  
"Thursday," Mac answered, perplexed at the change of subject.  
  
Annabel shook her head, "It's also the night of a second full moon. Strange things happen on Massanutten during a blue moon. Folks disappear and that's the God's honest truth." She stared at Mac, "Please stay until morning."  
  
Mac fought the urge to grin because it was obvious that Annabel was quite serious. She shook her head, "I can't, I have my orders." She gathered her uniform up, walking over to the old woman and patting her shoulder. "I'll be fine, really. I've driven through mountains before and I know to be careful." She headed for the ladies' room to change back into her uniform.  
  
Ten minutes later, standing by the front door, Mac shook Anthony Wade's hand and gave Annabel a hug, "Thank you for everything. Meeting you both has been a pleasure. I'd like to come back and visit, if that'd be all right."  
  
"I wish you would," Annabel looked like she was about to say something and then changed her mind. Instead, she reached up and unfastened her necklace and handed it to a startled Mac, "Come back and bring this with you."  
  
Mac tried to return it, "I can't take this, Annabel. You don't even know me. We only met a couple of hours ago."  
  
Annabel held up a hand, "It's a loan. I'm not a bad judge of character and you seem like a honorable person. I want you to bring it back. It's special, it's been in the family for nigh on four generations."  
  
Eyes widening, Mac redoubled her efforts to give it back, "All the more reason that I shouldn't take it, Miss Annabel. It's an heirloom. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to it. Besides, I don't know when I'll be able to get back here. With the current state of the military, I could find myself in Kuwait next week. You really don't want to do this."  
  
"You need to take it with you, Sarah. I want you to wear it. Now." Mac was even more puzzled by Annabel's vehemence.  
  
"Miss Annabel, I can't wear it. I'll be out of uniform. Please take it back." She smiled a little to try and lighten the mood. This conversation was beginning to make her... twitchy. The last thing she needed was that damned psychic whatever-it-was popping up and distracting her while she drove. "I don't need an excuse to come back and visit. I like you both."  
  
"And we like you. Now, please, put it on. Take it off when you get to DC. You'll make me feel a lot better if I know you're wearing it while you're traveling. I know it sounds silly but just humor an old woman. What could it hurt?" Annabel stared at Mac intently.  
  
Mac sighed, this was obviously an argument she wasn't going to win. "Fine." She fastened it around her neck and tucked it inside her shirt. "Now I really do have to get going." A few minutes later, she was back on the road, the White Horse Grill receding into the darkness.  
  
Anthony Wade put a hand on Annabel's shoulder as they watched the taillights disappear. "It'll probably be okay, Miss Annabel."  
  
She reached up and patted his hand absently, "I hope so." 


	2. Part 2

Part 2  
  
Massanutten Mountain Shenandoah Valley, Virginia 2050 Local  
  
Forty-three minutes into the drive and Mac was still a little dumfounded by Annabel's bizarre request. The rain was down to a drizzle but it was easy to track the path of the storm. More than once, she had to veer around downed tree limbs. The road had been steadily climbing as it wound around the knees of the mountain. She kept the speed down as much for the curves that were beginning to appear as for the debris littering the road. The back of her mind was busily toting up the extra time it was going to take getting through the mountains if she wasn't able to pick up speed soon. This trip was getting depressingly longer all the time.  
  
It was blacker than pitch out this way. The power lines must be down all over the mountain, there's wasn't a light to be seen anywhere. Feeling the hair begin to rise on the back of her neck, Mac angrily told herself to get a grip. It was just her overactive imagination that made it seem like the darkness was swallowing the feeble swath projected by her headlights. A mist began to rise from the pavement, growing progressively thicker. Swearing under her breath, Mac slowed even more as the visibility dropped. If this kept up, she was going to be at a standstill.   
  
It wasn't long before Mac felt she was driving in a tunnel. With a start, she realized that at some point, the lines on the road had disappeared. The road felt rougher, too. What the hell was going on? Had she somehow managed to leave the main highway? For the life of her, she couldn't remember any sort of a turn-off. She shot a quick glance at the map lying on the passenger seat. There couldn't have been any turn-off if she was in the area she thought she was.   
  
She was still trying to figure it out when a figure suddenly appeared out of the mist. Shocked, she threw the wheel over as she stomped on the brakes. Her heart was in her throat as she felt the back end of the car slide out. Desperately, Mac spun the wheel to compensate when the right front tire dropped off the edge of the road. Her last coherent thought as the rest of car followed was 'What the hell happened to the guardrails?"  
  
*******  
  
Mac slowly opened her eyes and took stock of her situation. She blinked once or twice but it did nothing to relieve the unremitting darkness surrounding her. The car's engine had stopped and neither the headlights or the dashlights seemed to be working. According to her internal clock, only a few minutes had passed so she was pretty sure she hadn't lost consciousness, although her impressions of what had happened were pretty chaotic. She groaned a little as she gingerly moved arms and legs. Having the airbag deploy was infinitely better than smacking into the steering wheel but it still felt like she'd been clobbered by a giant fist. She felt the side of her head and winced. There'd probably be a knot there soon from bouncing her head off the driver's side window. Aside from a slight headache, there didn't seem to be any major damage. She'd been damn lucky.  
  
The car was wedged sideways against some trees at close to a forty-five degree angle. Judging by the fact that she and the door were more or less in one piece, the actual impact had to have been on the front end. The car must have slid sideways afterwards. Mac unfastened her seatbelt and worked her way to the passenger side. Grabbing the door handle, she braced herself as well as she could and pushed. Nothing. Muttering to herself, she maneuvered around to try and get a little more leverage and shoved again. Still nothing. Letting go, she half-slid back to the driver's side. With the electrical system out, there was no way to get the windows down. She would have to find some way to break the glass.  
  
Mac peered out of the driver's side window and shook her head slightly. Even if she broke the glass on this side, she didn't think she could squeeze past the trees. That left the passenger side. If it came down to it, she supposed she could kick the window out. It would be awkward as hell. She'd be practically upside down and there'd be no way to keep the glass from landing on her when the window did break. At least the safety glass would ensure that she didn't cut her leg off when she tried it. First, though, she'd see if there was anything else she could use. Mac smiled ruefully to herself, 'see' was a relative term. She could barely 'see' anything. Her search would be mostly by feel.   
  
She went at it methodically, checking around the driver's side and then moving to the passenger seat. When her hand touched her purse, she resisted the urge to smack herself in the forehead. Her cell phone! With a little luck, maybe she could just sit tight and wait for a rescue squad to come get her. Fumbling inside, her hand made contact with the hard plastic case. Pulling it out, she flipped it open and was rewarded with the soft glow of the keypad. Her smile of success faded as she looked at the message on the LCD screen. 'Searching for Service'. Damn! As she stared at the traitorous piece of electronic equipment, her puzzlement grew. Searching for service? She was on a global satellite system. The only times she couldn't get some sort of signal was when she was unfortunate enough to be stuck underwater in a sub or if she was deep in the bowels of a Navy ship with tons of steel above her head.  
  
Mac heaved a sigh, she'd think about it later. Right now, she needed to get back on the hunt for something to help her get out of this car. She crawled into the backseat and half-landed on her briefcase. Picking it up, she hefted it in her hands for a moment. Maybe... if she couldn't find anything else. The rest of the car was depressingly empty. She sat for a few seconds, drumming her fingers on the briefcase and then turned towards the back of the car. A lot of vehicles were made so it was possible to access the trunk from the inside. Hopefully, this was one of them. She started running her hands around the backrest of the seat. There should be a catch or loop of some sort... Hah! There it was. Mac gave it a good yank and was rewarded with the backrest folding down. She smiled in triumph, there had to be a tire iron of some sort in there.  
  
Right about then, the first fat raindrop hit the back windshield. Great, just great, Mac thought sourly as she began her search of the trunk. A couple of minutes later, not even the steadily increasing tattoo of rain could wipe the smile off her face. Not only had she found the tire iron but also an emergency kit. With a great deal of satisfaction, she clicked on the flashlight and inspected the rest of the contents. Flares, a first aid kit, tow rope, one of those compact, foil-like emergency blankets, collapsible water container, waterproof matches, food bars and even one of those Leatherman multi-tool gadgets. This was practically Nirvana for a Marine. Quickly and efficiently, she began divvying up the supplies. She knew better than to keep everything in one place. Driving off the road had been completely unexpected, she would not be so sanguine about hanging onto the emergency bag. Some of the waterproof matches, a food bar, the blanket and a roll of aspirin went into her pockets. The Leatherman tool she attached to her belt. She paused for a moment in thought and then grabbed her cell phone, shoving it in a pocket as well.   
  
Satisfied that she was as prepared as possible, Mac picked up the tire iron. Shielding her face and eyes, she began hammering at the window. It broke through on the third try and she quickly used the iron to clear the rest of the glass. She squinted as she worked, rain was pouring into the opening. Making a quick decision, she grabbed her briefcase and purse and shoved them into the trunk. Hopefully, that would keep them dry. She would get everything back once they pulled the car back up on the road. Picking up the emergency bag, she swung it through the opening and then followed.  
  
Mac landed on all fours outside the car and then cautiously stood up. The angle of the slope and the rain were making the footing more than a little treacherous. Bracing against the car, she started to wipe her hands off and then gave up in disgust. Odds were that she would be on her hands and knees more often than not anyway, as she climbed back to the road. Lightning flashed and a few seconds later, thunder rolled through the sky. Mac cast a jaundiced eye upward and then pulled out the flashlight, slinging the bag onto her shoulder. Deciding on her route, she began the uphill climb.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, she braced herself on a shrub and took a breather. She was soaked through and mud-covered as well. Mac glanced up the slope. She had no idea how far down she was but surely, the road couldn't that much further. With a sigh, she started climbing again. It was the sound that first caught her attention but with the thunder rumbling constantly, it was hard to decide just what it was she was hearing. A few seconds later, a torrent of water hit her square in the chest, knocking her backwards off her feet. Then she was tumbling downhill, out of control and unable to stop. Terrified, she tried to protect herself, expecting at any moment, a fatal impact with a tree or boulder.  
  
Dizzy and disoriented, Mac barely registered the lurch that told her she was airborne. Then, with a splash, icy water closed over her. Blind instinct got her head above water. Arms flailing, she coughed and spluttered as she was swept downstream at an alarming rate. It had to be a small creek that she was in, she realized, as the current bounced her into a steep bank and then swirled her away. Desperately, she tried to find a way out. A low-hanging branch appeared and she threw herself at it, only to miss and disappear underwater. Struggling back up, Mac was already beginning to feel numb with cold.   
  
Moments later, she slammed into the bank again. This time, she managed to latch onto a gnarled tree root. With an effort, she dragged her other hand up to consolidate her grip. The force of the water was staggering and now she was getting pelted with debris as well. Try as she might, she couldn't pull herself out. She glanced helplessly over her shoulder and then her eyes widened. A large hunk of wood was hurtling at her. In despair, she let go and a few seconds later, felt the impact as the log hit. Even with the force dissipated, it was enough to push her underwater again where she bounced along the creekbed.  
  
Mac broke the surface once more, wondering how much longer she was going to be able to hang on. She swept around a bend and came to a jarring halt as she was slammed into a tangle of logs and debris. Grabbing at branches, she fought against the force that was trying to drag her underneath. Frantic at being so close to escaping, she redoubled her efforts and succeeded in inching away from the brunt of the current. A minute later, she was standing in water only a foot deep. Mac staggered up the bank and sank to her hands and knees, trembling with cold and exhaustion.  
  
She fought the urge to collapse, some stubborn little voice was telling her it would be the last thing she did. Struggling to her feet, she braced herself against a tree trunk and looked around. The rain continued unabated. She needed to find some sort of shelter and she had absolutely no idea where she was. In a way, that simplified things, one direction was as good as another. Mac pushed herself upright and started walking.   
  
She kept to the path of least resistance, shifting away whenever the sound of water grew too loud. The land was gradually flattening out. She kept moving, only marginally aware of where she was going. At least the exertion from walking was beginning to warm her up. Unfortunately, it was exacerbating the exhaustion. Her legs felt leaden and she wondered vaguely if it were truly possible to walk and sleep at the same time.   
  
She was in the middle of the clearing before she realized that the trees were gone. Coming to a halt, Mac slowly turned in a circle. Visibility was problematic with the rain and darkness but there seemed to be a larger, deeper shadow off to her left. Giving a mental shrug, she started plodding towards it. Chances were, it was just a particularly dense cluster of trees. Still, even that might offer a little protection. She was just about at the point where stopping wasn't going to be a choice. Her heart started beating a little faster as the shadow began to take on a box-like shape. A few moments later, she was staring at the remains of a small log cabin.   
  
It was fairly well wrecked; even in the darkness, that was pretty apparent, but Mac wasn't feeling all that picky. She cautiously stepped inside and turned to the right where there seemed to be a bit of roof left. Gingerly moving through the debris, she stopped and picked up a slender piece of lumber. As anxious as she was to get out of the elements, she didn't want to share space with any snakes. Reaching the corner, she began clearing an area. Satisfied that there were no uninvited guests, she finally allowed herself to collapse. It was somewhat damp and there were drips but, on the whole, being out of the downpour was practically heaven.   
  
Stretching her legs out, she began checking pockets. It wasn't quite as bad as she feared, the blanket, a packet of the matches and a badly crumpled food bar were still there. The Leatherman holster was still attached but the tool itself was gone. She was too tired to eat so she would save the food bar for the morning. Wearily, she began undressing. Now that she was stationary, she didn't need wet clothes leaching away body heat, nor did she want to encourage trenchfoot. Wringing everything out, she draped the clothes as best she could on whatever was handy. Then, opening up the packet, she shook out the blanket and rolled herself up in it. She was asleep almost immediately.  
  
Massanutten Mountain Shenandoah Valley, Virginia 1040 Local  
  
Gradually, Mac came awake. Groaning, she pried open an eye and then promptly shut it again as brightness assaulted it. She groaned again as she shifted. Sleeping on the ground after taking a header down a mountain led to more aches than she thought her body was capable of. Middle-age sucked. Her time sense, apparently annoyed with her procrastination about rising, administered its own sharp kick. Mac bolted upright, stifling a gasp as bruised and sore muscles protested the sudden move. She buried her face in her hands. Goddammit! She was an hour and forty minutes late for court! Chegwidden and Morris would be having apoplexy.   
  
Well, for the first thirty minutes or so, they would, she amended to herself. That would give way to worry when they couldn't find her. Mac lifted her head and looked around. She was in the same boat, she couldn't find her either. Grimly, she forced herself up and then gave it a minute, waiting for the spinning to stop. She didn't think she had a concussion, her head wasn't pounding that badly. It was probably just an aftereffect of exhaustion. She glanced down at herself, there were any number of bruises and scrapes but nothing incapacitating. Despite everything that had happened since she slid off the road, her original assessment still stood. She'd been damn lucky.  
  
Moving stiffly, she gathered up her uniform. It was still damp and definitely becoming the worse for wear. Mac grinned wryly to herself, if she'd had any idea yesterday would be so eventful, she would have worn cammies to the interview. As it was, she was just happy she hadn't opted to wear a skirt. Slowly, she began to dress and her hand came in contact with Annabel's necklace. She stopped for a moment to finger it. Thank God she hadn't lost that. That delicate chain must be stronger than it looked. For some reason, it made her feel a little better and she finished getting dressed. She began to feel a bit more confident, she was bound to run into someone. This area wasn't some remote third-world country. All she needed was someone with a phone.  
  
She stepped out into the sunshine and looked around. Massanutten loomed up before her, the sun just peeking over its right shoulder. She called up the map in her mind - that put her south-southwest. She turned to her right, yup, there were the Blue Ridge mountains. Mac turned back and squinted at the mountain. If she kept the sun just at her right shoulder, that would keep her moving roughly north-northwest - back to the White Horse Grill. She'd have to remember to compensate as the sun traveled across the sky. She didn't think she could find her car again and wasn't going to waste time trying. Chances were, she'd run into civilization sooner or later. She scrubbed at her face, feeling the grit underneath her hands and then ran her fingers through her hair. Hopefully, she wouldn't frighten the natives too badly. She probably looked like hell. Resolutely, she began walking.  
  
Two hours later, she got a break. Pushing through the underbrush, she found herself on a dirt road. With all the rain, it looked more like a quagmire but she thought she could stay on the edge without getting too muddy. Finally, things were looking up. Forty-five minutes later, a clearing appeared with another log cabin in it. This one looked like it was lived in, there was smoke curling lazily from the chimney. As Mac walked closer, two small children appeared from around the side. They stopped dead at the sight of her. She smiled at them, "Hi, is your mom or dad home? I ... " Mac broke off in surprise as the oldest child, a boy, screeched 'Momma! They're back!' and dragged his sister into the cabin at a run.   
  
A few moments later, a gaunt-looking woman in a long dress appeared in the doorway with a double-barreled shotgun. She waved it at Mac, who stepped back in alarm, raising her hands, "Please, ma'am. I just need to use your phone."  
  
"Get out! Get offa mah land! I got nothin' left for y'all to steal, y' hear? Git!"  
  
Mac backed another step, "I don't know what you're talking about! I don't want to steal anything! I'm lost - I just want to use your phone!" Her eyes widened as the woman threw the shotgun to her shoulder and fired. She dove for the ground and then started scrambling away. What the hell was the matter with that crazy woman?! Gaining her feet, she bolted for the underbrush, ducking as another blast riddled the leaves above her. She kept on moving, putting as much distance as possible between her and the cabin. Finally, she couldn't go any further and sank down on the ground, panting. Mac didn't think that the nutcase would actually pursue her - not with two children anyway. On the other hand, the woman was clearly deranged.  
  
As Mac got her breathing under control, she rested her head on her hand. This was a setback she hadn't been expecting. The whole thing was bizarre. She went over what had just happened and stopped short, frowning. There was more wrong with the entire incident than one homicidal woman. Both the kids and the woman had been wearing clothes that could have come right off the set of one of Clint Eastwood's spaghetti westerns. And there hadn't been any sort of lines leading to the cabin... Amish? Nah, no way. Last she checked, the Amish didn't shoot first and ask questions later... Damn, maybe they were making drugs and what she'd run across was 'Little Meth Lab on the Prairie'. That might explain the woman's paranoia. She was lucky that 'Pa' wasn't home - he probably wouldn't have missed.  
  
Wearily, she climbed to her feet. The road should be somewhere to her right. She ran her tongue over dry lips and sighed, that was another problem. Water. It was somewhat ironic, considering the damn stuff had tried to kill her but she would need to find potable water soon. She'd crossed any number of streams and rivulets but without any way to purify the water, she was more than a little leery about drinking. God only knew what kind of bacteria was floating around in there. Mac had no desire to experience dysentery, typhus or cholera. Firmly, she suppressed the thought that it might already be too late. She'd certainly ingested enough water in that damn creek. And probably breathed enough water to give herself pneumonia.   
  
Mac shook her head angrily, that whole line of the thought was unproductive. Focus on the here and now, she told herself firmly. It was time to get out of the wilderness. 


	3. Part 3

Part 3  
  
Vicinity of Massanutten Mountain Shenandoah Valley, Virginia 1410 Local  
  
Where the hell was everybody? Mac wiped a hand across her forehead and then frowned. Dry as a bone and she should have been sweating, at least a little. Great, she was probably starting to run a fever, which meant she could now count on some fever-induced aches to go with the tumble-down-the-mountain aches. She coughed a little, experimentally, and was relieved that there didn't seem to be any phlegm. Maybe her lungs would stay out of whatever she was getting. As she trudged along, her sense of uneasiness was growing. It was so quiet. Not the sounds of nature, of course, birds and bugs were busily going about their business. What she wasn't hearing was the distant, omnipresent rumble of the interstates. There weren't a lot of places where that was normal in the U.S. and this definitely wasn't one of them. Mac glanced skyward. She'd been doing that more and more frequently. Not once today had she'd seen or heard a plane. It gave her the same eerie feeling that she gotten right after 9/11 when the nation's planes were grounded. What the hell was going on?  
  
Absorbed in her thoughts, she didn't notice that the trees were thinning. All at once, Mac found herself out of the forest and standing on a hillside. She caught her breath, the view was spectacular. More importantly, here was civilization. Clusters of farm buildings dotted the landscape, surrounded by the checkerboard pattern of crops and pastures. The road she'd been following wound its way down and joined a larger road that threaded its way into the Valley. Elated that her ordeal was finally over, Mac started to hurry down the slope.  
  
Gradually, her steps slowed and she took another, longer look around. There were no cars or trucks or even tractors anywhere to be seen. She turned in a circle, looking at the surrounding mountains. No communication towers, no electrical towers - no power lines in the Valley either. There was one set of poles marching across the landscape with wires attached but it didn't stop at any of the houses. Reluctantly, she raised her eyes and looked up at a breathtakingly blue sky. No planes, no vapor trails, no hint that there'd ever been any. Mac found herself trembling. What had happened? Some sort of nuclear strike? She shook her head, dismissing that thought. That wouldn't explain the missing towers and lines.  
  
Abruptly, she sank to the ground. Was she going crazy? Or was this all a dream? If it was, it was one of her more vivid and coherent ones. She rubbed her head, what if the car accident had been more serious? Maybe this is what happened when you were in a coma. She looked up at the sky again and chuckled ruefully, maybe she was dead. Maybe she had splattered herself against a tree and everything else she'd experienced since was some sort of cosmic 'Let's-Mess-With-The-Marine' prank. She sat there for the longest time; for once, she didn't know exactly how long. Apparently, her time sense didn't think too much of the joke and had retreated angrily to some nether corner of her mind. Or maybe, she thought suddenly, this proved her theory. Dead people didn't need to tell time.   
  
As she turned that thought around in her head, she became aware of voices. Men's voices and a curious creaking and jingling. She climbed to her feet, groaning, and rolled an eye upward. All joking aside, it certainly didn't seem fair to feel every bruise and scrape if she was already dead. Weren't there rules?  
  
She looked to her left and her eyes widened in surprise. Blue-uniformed men were riding alongside a string of wagons being pulled by teams of mules. It looked like something right out of the movies. They would be passing right in front of her in a couple of minutes or so. She started to call out to them but stopped, considering. Maybe she wasn't dead, maybe she had wandered onto the set of a movie... No, that made no sense, for one thing, there was no film crew. Dead or a coma was looking more and more plausible. This wasn't exactly what she was expecting but then, she'd never been in a coma, or dead, for that matter... at least, not to the best of her recollection. She stifled a laugh, if she hadn't been halfway convinced of the first two options, then crazy would have been a strong contender as well.   
  
The gunfire took her completely by surprise and she instinctively dove for cover. The thunder of hooves shook the ground and soon the sound of gunfire was joined by the shouts and screams of men and horses. Cautiously, Mac raised her head and then stared in amazement. A full-fledged cavalry battle had broken out. Mounted men, in dusty blue and butternut, swirled around each other, firing pistols and short-barreled carbines at point-blank range, all the while, bellowing obscenities. This couldn't possibly be real. The sound of hooves behind her made flip over on her back. Mac knew a moment of stark terror as a gray-clad young man with wild eyes, leveled his pistol at her. Suddenly, he reeled backwards. She stared as he slowly came forward again and slid bonelessly from his horse. He landed in a heap right next to her, the exit wound in his back was big enough to put her fist in. She started scrambling backwards and didn't stop until she'd hit a low stone wall. Dear God Almighty, what was happening?! She continued to stare at the body as the firing gradually died. Okay, her opinion was definitely swinging towards the dream/coma theory because this was beginning to edge into nightmare territory. What was going on? How in the world had she come up with this scenario? Sturgis was the Civil War buff! Granted, she'd learned a bit in connection with those two sophomoric cadets but if her subconscious wanted to scare the hell out of her, it would have put her back in Bosnia... or her childhood.   
  
A gruff voice sounded above her, "On yer feet, Johnny."  
  
Mac twisted around and looked up. The burly figure of a man stood above her. WIth his back to the sun, it was hard to make out any details. "What... ?"  
  
A large, callused hand came down and grabbed her arm. It hauled upwards and she scrambled to get her feet under her. The voice growled again, "I said, on yer feet!"  
  
Mac staggered upright and then yanked her arm free, "Let go of me."   
  
She stared at the man. He wasn't much taller than she but was considerably heavier. She didn't think it was fat. He could have stepped right out of Ken Burns' Civil War documentary. He was staring back at her, looking somewhat amazed. "You're a woman!" A short, lean man joined them. He looked her up and down slowly and then grinned, revealing brown, tobacco-stained teeth. Mac stiffened. Before she could say anything, he clapped the first man on the back and called over his shoulder, "Hey boys! Barnett's done caught hisself a female Johnny!"  
  
Barnett looked at the lean man, "What d' I do with her, Ezra? She ain't one of them raiders."  
  
Ezra smiled at him. Mac was liking the lean man less and less. More soldiers were gathering around and Ezra rolled his eyes at them. "Weee-elllll... ," he drawled slowly, eliciting chuckles from the rest.  
  
"You'll take her to see the Major." A new voice barked. Most of the men jumped and then started looking guilty. A grizzled, wiry man with Sergeant stripes on his sleeves stomped into their midst. With his hands on his hips, he glared at Barnett, Ezra and the rest, "And the rest of you layabouts can form a burial detail. Get moving! The Major wants to join up with the rest of the regiment by nightfall." He turned around and stalked off. Barnett started to put a hand out and then plainly reconsidered when Mac glared at him. She turned and followed the Sergeant and Barnett walked behind her.  
  
Mac kept half an eye on the Sergeant and the rest of her attention on the ground. If such things counted when you were immersed in a dream, all she'd eaten in the last twenty hours and seventeen minutes was that crumbled food bar. Well, that and some wild cress she'd found at a spring where she'd finally broken down and drank. It was making her light-headed. She snorted to herself, as if she needed to make things appear more surreal. Hmmm, maybe she was sick and all of this was a fever-induced hallucination... A hand on her shoulder brought her to a halt. She looked up from her musings and realized she'd been about to crash into the Sergeant.  
  
He was standing in front of a taller man who was leaning over the tailgate, or whatever the hell it was called, of one of the wagons. This must be the Major. His uniform, while obviously worn, was of better make than the enlisted men. Aside from the shoulder straps and the saber hanging from his belt, there were no other distinguishing marks of rank. It appeared he was using the wagon as a temporary desk and he kept writing as he listened to the Sergeant make his report.  
  
"Thank you, Sergeant," the Major straightened up and turned towards them.  
  
Mac's eyes opened wide in shock. All she could manage to get out was "Harm!"  
  
The Major looked at her askance, "Madam, I assure you, no harm will befall you. We're civilized men, not monsters, no matter what you may have heard."  
  
Mac stared at him. It was Harm. His hair was quite a bit longer with a touch of gray at the temples and he wore a neatly trimmed mustache. His face was the weatherbeaten brown of someone who spent a considerable amount of time outdoors. ... Goddamn her subconscious! On top of everything else, she didn't need to be reminded of how much she missed him. She drew a hand across her forehead and realized it was shaking, "I'm sorry... " That disjointed feeling was growing.  
  
The Major smiled while gesturing to someone behind her, 'No need to apologize. Sergeant Fitzgerald tells me you witnessed this dust-up firsthand. You're understandably upset." He stepped forward and extended a hand toward her.  
  
If she weren't already reeling, both physically and mentally, Mac might have bristled at his words and tone. Patronizing men were not high on her list of favorite things. She allowed him to turn her and saw a Corporal setting up a campstool. Yes, sitting would be a good thing and, quickly, before this dream threw her any more curves. The Major leaned against the wagon and watched her silently. When he spoke, it was in the same quiet tone one uses on a skittish horse, "How is it you managed to find yourself in the middle of our little skirmish?"  
  
She raised an eyebrow, "The universe has a warped sense of humor?" He looked startled, apparently that wasn't the answer he was expecting. Mac decided to follow with a question of her own, "Your name is Rabb, isn't it?" His reaction wasn't what she was expecting, either.   
  
He nodded slowly, and Mac could swear he looked somewhat smug, "It is, madam. Major Josiah Rabb at your service." He began to grin, "Forgive me for being blunt, but if you were hoping to pass yourself off as a man so you could join my company, perhaps you should have worn looser clothing."  
  
Mac stared at him in confusion, "What are you talking about? Why would I bother impersonating a man?"  
  
The Major gave her a sidelong look and sighed to himself. God help him if this was one of those vociferous, unsexed females who were determined to intrude into the sovereign territories of men. There were some things women had no business meddling in. War was one of them. Abruptly, he straightened up and scowled, "Madam, there are only two reasons for you to be dressed the way you are. Either you wish to join the army under false pretenses or you're a camp-follower. I don't have time for one or inclination for the other."  
  
It took a moment for what he said to sink in and then Mac shot to her feet, seething, "You think I'm a prostitute? A whore?! How dare you!" Resisting the urge to slap him, she threw her hands in the air instead, "You've got some nerve, Buster! I didn't know you would be here. I don't even know where here is!" She turned away from him, still fuming, "Unbelievable! First the mountain tries to kill me, then that crazy woman and now this!" Barnett suddenly appeared in front of her. She leveled a glare at him and barked, "Stand aside, Private! Now!" He moved before he realized what he was doing, reacting to the sound of command.  
  
She stomped past, intent on leaving. The Corporal who had brought the campstool stepped in front next, putting out a hand to stop her. Eyes narrowed, Mac growled, "Don't." His hand dropped for an instant as he hesitated and then came back up as his jaw tightened. No female was ordering him around. Mac didn't hesitate at all. As his hand came in contact with her shoulder, she grabbed his wrist with her left hand. She rotated it up and out as she slid alongside of him. A split second later, her right hand slammed into his chest while her right leg swept his feet out from under him. He hit the ground with a thump and laid there a moment wheezing. Mac kept moving as another soldier decided to try his luck. He threw himself at her, obviously intent on taking her to the ground. She pivoted as he reached for her, letting his momentum carry him past. He missed but she didn't, grabbing the back of his coat and redirecting his trajectory. He crashed into the Corporal who was struggling to his feet, taking them both down.   
  
The next man grabbed her from behind pinning her arms at her side. Mac picked up a foot and came down hard on his instep. He howled and his grip loosened. She dropped low while raising her arms, effectively popping out of his grasp. Pivoting, she hammered an elbow into his ribs. Continuing to turn, she launched an uppercut at his chin, straightening her legs at the same time to throw her weight into the punch. He hit the ground and stayed there. Mac noted with satisfaction that it had been Ezra. She looked up to see that she was surrounded by a group of soldiers, some were laughing, many were gaping at the men on the ground. Suddenly, she staggered as the ground seemed to tilt. Goddammit, not now! She struggled to get one foot in front of the other, swayed even more and then collapsed.  
  
The ring of men started to close in, only to freeze when Major Rabb's voice roared out, "Stand away!" He strode into the circle with Sergeant Fitzgerald at his side, "Get back to your posts! I've seen better behavior from green troops! Go!" He watched the men scatter and then looked down at the unconscious woman. He was feeling slightly ashamed of himself. He'd stood there with his mouth open, watching the scene unfold like the rawest recruit.  
  
Fitzgerald glanced at him and then said in a bland tone, "It's a good thing women are the weaker sex."  
  
Rabb shot him an annoyed look and then chuckled ruefully, "Indeed. Well, we can't leave her here. Put her in one of the wagons and make her comfortable, Tommy. We'll take her along. I think I need to have another conversation with this woman."  
  
"Yes sir," Fitzgerald answered, "And might I suggest, sir, that you refrain from making her angry again? We're running out of men." 


	4. Part 4

Part 4  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1840 Local  
  
Mac slowly opened her eyes and stared at the curiously curved ceiling. Where was she? She'd been having the strangest dreams...  
  
"Ahhh, you're awake."  
  
Harm! Mac raised herself up on her elbows and turned towards him with a smile, "Hey, you'll never believe the weird dream I was having... " She stopped short when she saw the face of Major Rabb. Dropping back with a thump, she balled her hands into fists, "Oh God, when am I going to wake up?!"  
  
Rabb looked at her in confusion, "I assure you, at the moment, you are awake, Miss... " He frowned a little, "I know we haven't been properly introduced, but would you please tell me your name? It will make our conversation somewhat easier." While he was speaking, he gestured to someone Mac couldn't see.  
  
She stared up at the ceiling, absently noting the patched canvas. So she was in a wagon. It was amazing the amount of detail her mind was supplying about the inconsequential stuff. But who did you complain to when your head didn't seem to play by the rules? Usually her nightmares jumped and shifted almost continually - leaping from one frightening scenario to another; or worse, taking a pleasant memory and adding a gruesome twist. This... this continuity was disorienting. It seemed so real. What if she got lost in this dreamworld? What if she couldn't wake up? Oh God, what if she was awake and had lost her mind... like the McNair woman that Annabel had told her about? Feeling her heart begin to race, Mac glanced to her right and saw he was still watching her. Get a grip, Marine, hysteria wasn't going to help. What had he asked? Oh yes... "Sarah. Sarah MacKenzie."  
  
"Thank you, Miss MacKenzie," he answered gravely, wondering a little at the play of emotions that had run across her face. "How are you feeling?"  
  
Mac brought up a hand to rub her forehead, "Like I've tumbled through the Looking Glass." For some reason, talking to even a self-created facsimile of Harm was calming. She'd figure this out, one way or the other.  
  
Rabb's eyebrows rose, "I beg your pardon?"  
  
She dropped her hand and looked at him in irritation. This was no time for her mind to start being coy, "Through the Looking Glass... Alice in Wonderland? ... Lewis Carroll? Oh, c'mon, it's a classic. If I know about it, then you have to."   
  
He looked even more perplexed, "Why on earth would that be so? We've never met." Mac's reply was interrupted by the arrival of a private carrying a bowl and eating utensils. Rabb took them and then turned towards her, "I had my cook make soup for you."  
  
Mac sat up with alacrity and then squeezed her eyes shut, letting the dizziness pass. Her stomach growled loudly and she heard Rabb chuckle, "I was about to ask if you were hungry but I believe I have my answer." It sounded so like Harm and his teasing that she felt like crying. When would this nightmare end? Slowly, she opened her eyes and found Rabb watching her with concern. He handed the bowl to her, along with a spoon, and then waited silently as she began to eat. In short order, the bowl was emptied and he looked at her curiously, "When was the last time you ate?" She was a trifle thin for his tastes but didn't have that gaunt, haggard look he'd seen on so many during this war.  
  
She looked back at him, feeling much better than she had, "If you mean a real meal, then it's been twenty-three hours and twelve minutes. May I have more soup?"  
  
The Major stared at her. This was by far, the oddest and most intriguing woman he'd ever run across. He found himself wondering what she looked like before she'd cut her hair off and put on men's clothes. He cleared his throat, "Are you always so precise?"  
  
"Yes," she answered shortly, deciding that it wasn't worth it to run her finger around the bowl. She looked up to see what her mind was going to conjure next. Maybe she should just play along and not worry about the details. He was staring at her with that oh-so-familiar, Rabb-in-the-headlights look. "Major?" He blinked and then flushed. Mac tried not to smile, where had she seen that before? "Major, you never answered my question. May I have some more soup?"  
  
He looked a little startled and then cleared his throat again, "If you've no objections, I'd be honored if you would join me for dinner. I'd like to talk with you." He smiled when she nodded and then gestured vaguely in her direction, "I'm afraid we don't have any suitable women's attire but I could probably supply you with some cleaner clothes." He watched somewhat anxiously, not wanting to offend her again.   
  
Mac ran a hand through her hair, "Would it be possible to get myself cleaned up as well? I feel like I'm carrying half the mountain with me."  
  
"We're not in permanent camp, so the best I can offer is a bucket and wash basin. The stream we're next to isn't deep enough for bathing." Nor did he want to deal with the logistics of that, God knew what it would do to discipline.  
  
Mac smiled at him, "The wash basin will be fine, thank you."  
  
He found himself smiling back and coughed, "Very good. I'll have Sergeant Fitzgerald bring you the clothes as well and I will call on you in... " He paused delicately, letting her choose the time.  
  
"Twenty minutes." She refrained from grinning at his expression. Apparently, the women he knew were more high-maintenance. She stared after him as he walked away. It was becoming more and more easy to believe that this was really happening. That was impossible, of course. Mac closed her eyes and massaged her temples. She knew the mind was capable of some amazing stuff but all this! A slight cough made her blink and she turned to see Sergeant Fitzgerald standing at the wagon. He must have been close at hand.  
  
"For you, ma'am," he said somewhat gruffly, dropping a bundle of clothes in the wagon. "Private Mott will be by in a few minutes with a bucket and wash basin." Fitzgerald looked at Mac, "If you need anything else, I'll be within hearing, ma'am."  
  
Mac inclined her head gravely, "Thank you, Sergeant." As he started to turn away, she thought of something else, "Excuse me, Sergeant?"   
  
He turned back and looked at her, "Ma'am?"  
  
"Am I under arrest?"  
  
Fitzgerald chuckled, "No ma'am. The Major's a fairer man than that. You were defending yourself." He gave her a wink, "I've yet to see a better punch delivered to a more deserving chin. You took the wind right out of Ezra Caine's sails and saved me the trouble." With that, he sauntered off.   
  
Mac watched him walk away and shook her head, Good sergeants seemed to be the same no matter where you found them. It was comforting. Twenty minutes later, she was waiting as Major Rabb returned.   
  
He smiled when he saw her. There was something about this woman that attracted him, even if she was dressed like a man. She was sitting on the end of the wagon, swinging her legs back and forth, much like his youngest daughter, Molly, would do when she sat with him on the front porch on a summer's eve. He wasn't all that happy to note that Miss MacKenzie had also attracted the attentions of Lt. Franklin.  
  
He approached quietly from behind and was inordinately pleased at the relieved look that flashed across Miss MacKenzie's face when she saw him. The Lieutenant failed to notice. He was busily extolling her beauty and comparing her to innumerable goddesses, flowers, oceans, stars and sunsets. Rabb waited until he was a mere five feet away before bellowing, "Lt. Franklin! When were you planning on reporting in?" He kept his face impassive as the Lieutenant did a credible imitation of a jack rabbit, leaping up in surprise. One look at the merriment on Miss MacKenzie's face was enough to make him concentrate entirely on Franklin. He couldn't afford to start laughing now.  
  
"Major Rabb, sir! You startled me. I was on my way to see you, sir, when I ... " the Lieutenant's voice trailed off.  
  
"Became distracted?" Rabb inquired dryly. "Have you seen to your men?" Franklin nodded vigorously. "Good, Lieutenant, I will expect your written report tonight. Dismissed." He watched the Lieutenant scurry off and then turned back to see Miss MacKenzie smiling at him.  
  
"That was mean," Mac said, as he courteously offered her his arm. Putting a hand on his sleeve, she jumped lightly down from the wagon. Her smile grew wider, "Thank you for the rescue."  
  
He gave a slight bow, "I believe Lt. Franklin will survive and it's my pleasure, madam." His expression turned mischievous, "I thought your patience might be wearing thin. I can't afford to lose any more men."   
  
Blushing, Mac started to apologize and then stopped. She was doing it again. Treating this whole weird dream like it was real. She glanced up at the Major as they walked to his tent. It was fairly obvious why her subconscious had put Harm in the dream. Why it chose to do it this way was unclear and, well, frustrating. She could think of any number of more interesting and enjoyable scenarios involving Harm and herself. When she had a moment, someone's subconscious was going to get a talking to.  
  
They reached his tent, Rabb pulled the flap open and gestured her in. The table that doubled as his writing desk had been covered with a cloth and the plates and silverware were laid out and waiting. There was even a few flowers in a bottle. He smiled to himself. His aide, Billy Douglas, and Fitzgerald never missed an opportunity to matchmake for him. It had been a hard two years since the fever had taken Cassie. Tommy and Billy had decided six months ago that it was time to let go of the past.  
  
He moved ahead and held the chair for her, admiring her graceful figure as she sat. As soon as he had seated himself, Billy made his appearance. The young man must have been lurking just out of sight. "Your dinner, sir," he announced as he placed a platter of beef on the table. He was followed by Fitzgerald and Private Mott bringing a number of other dishes. They rotated in and out until Rabb was positive the table was going to collapse from the load. Fortunately, they stopped before that occurred.  
  
"One moment, gentlemen," Rabb called, as the three men were about to disappear out of the tent. He smiled at Mac, "Allow me to introduce you to my men. You've met Sergeant Fitzgerald, this is Lt. William Douglas, my aide, and Pvt. Gabriel Mott. Gentlemen, Miss Sarah MacKenzie." The men nodded and then hurriedly excused themselves. Mac looked somewhat surprised at their abrupt departure and glanced over at the Major. Rabb grinned at her, "Despite appearances, they're hopeless romantics. They're hoping I'll sweep you off your feet."  
  
Mac raised an eyebrow, "And not the other way around?"  
  
Rabb stared at her for a moment before he caught her other meaning and laughed out loud. "Touche, Miss MacKenzie. You should know that Corporal Garrett is still nursing his injured... ummm, pride." He rose and picked up the carving knife and fork. Gesturing towards the beef, he smiled, "Shall we eat first and then talk?" She looked at him curiously for a moment and then nodded. As they worked their way through the meal, he kept the conversation light and inconsequential, telling her of his current post and some of the minor and somewhat humorous difficulties he had had to deal with. Several times he caught her staring at him in perplexity.   
  
Finally, the meal drew to a close and he leaned back with a sigh. Sergeant Ames had outdone himself. Looking over at Miss MacKenzie, he smiled, "I think it's time you told me about yourself and how you came to be here."   
  
Mac looked at him for a long moment. What happened when you told a figment of your imagination that he was a figment of your imagination? She didn't want him to fade away. He was the one familiar thing in this whole bizarre experience. Mac frowned slightly, there was also a nagging, growing tendril of fear. She was hearing things she was absolutely sure she had no knowledge of. How could she explain that, if all of this was coming from her own mind? What if... ? She ruthlessly quashed that line of thought. It wasn't possible... period.  
  
Seeing that he was waiting for her to speak, Mac tilted her head to one side and gave a small sigh, "Would you like the plain, unvarnished truth?" He looked at her curiously and nodded. Mac took a deep breath, "My name is Sarah MacKenzie and I'm a Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Marine Corps. I'm also an attorney and I serve with the Judge Advocate General's office in Falls Church, Virginia. I came to the Shenandoah Valley to interview a witness and on the way back, I was involved in an accident." She waved a hand, "I'm pretty sure that all of this is a very vivid dream of some sort. What I don't know is why my mind chose this time period. I've never had more than a cursory interest in the Civil War."   
  
There. She'd said it. Now she waited to see what her subconscious would do next. Far from fading, Major Rabb's face was turning a deep red. When he spoke, his voice was icy, "You insult me, madam. I've offered you every courtesy and you repay me with this... this... fairy tale! Now, I suppose you'll traipse back to wherever you came from and laugh with others of your ilk about the joke you've played on the ignorant soldiers."  
  
Mac straightened up, her own temper beginning to flare, "Listen, mister, if I could get out of this dream, I would!" She raised her eyes upward, "You hear me? I.. Have... Had... Enough!" Looking back down at him, she saw his anger was changing to alarm. She snorted, "Put a sock in it, Major. I'm the only one who gets to decide if I'm crazy. You don't exist."  
  
Rabb blinked, put a sock in what? He opened his mouth to call in Fitzgerald and Douglas. Judging from her past performance, they'd probably have to keep this woman restrained until they could find a sanitorium. That thought made him pause. He'd been to one of those places once. They were hellholes. The inmates lived like and were treated like animals and worse. It didn't take much imagination to realize what would happen, what did happen, to a woman in there. A person as strong-willed as Miss MacKenzie wouldn't go meekly. She'd be dead within a week.  
  
He rubbed his chin while he considered. None of her actions earlier had been those of a deranged person. Rather, they bespoke a good deal of training... And when she had ordered Barnett to stand aside, it had the tone and force of someone who was not only used to giving orders, but having them obeyed. He remembered at the beginning of this conflict, when the horror of war was still overshadowed by patriotic fervor and innocent enthusiasm, how some women actually formed companies and pretended to be soldiers. They wanted to do more than sewing or encouraging their men in saving the Union. The ladies had met in town squares and drilled religiously; at least, until the novelty had worn off. Most had gone by the wayside fairly early. Maybe Miss MacKenzie had carried it further than most...   
  
Aside from her ludicrous story - and her reaction to his disbelief, he would have believed her completely sane. Fiery-tempered to be sure, but not crazy. Except for this insistence that he wasn't real. He stared at her, keeping his voice calm with an effort, "Why don't I exist?"  
  
"Because the Civil War ended one hundred and thirty-eight years ago! None of this is real! It can't be!" Mac stood up and turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. It couldn't be real, it couldn't! She tensed as she heard him rise from the table.   
  
"Look at me, Miss MacKenzie." Somehow, he had to get through to her. This had to stop or he would have to have her confined.   
  
She turned around. "Stop calling me that." He stared at her in confusion. She looked down at the floor, "You always call me Mac... or Sarah. Stop sounding like I'm some sort of stranger. I can't stand it. Not on top of everything else." She dropped back in her chair and buried her face in her hands, "Oh god, maybe I am going crazy."  
  
The despair in her voice tore at his heart. Maybe she had lost a loved one and this was how she was dealing with it. God knows after Cassie died, he thought the grief alone would kill him. He knelt down next to her, "Who am I supposed to be?"  
  
She was quiet for so long, he thought she wasn't going to answer. Finally, her muffled voice said, "You are supposed to be U.S. Naval Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., also assigned to the Judge Advocate General's office in Falls Church. We've been colleagues and best friends for almost nine years. We've been... courting for the last year."  
  
He raised an eyebrow and said mildly, "I must be an idiot, as well, if I waited eight years to court you." He thought he heard a watery chuckle.   
  
"I've thought the same thing, on occasion." She raised her head and wiped at her eyes. Rabb offered her his handkerchief. Then he rose and pulled his chair over next to hers. Mac looked at him as he sat back down, "It really isn't all his fault. I've made my share of mistakes and missteps." She leaned back and looked up at the ceiling again, "I don't know what to do and I don't know how much more I can take." Closing her eyes, her voice dropped to a whisper, "Maybe this is supposed to kill me."  
  
"Don't say that!" The words were out of his mouth before he could censor them. She looked at him in surprise. He raked a hand through his hair and thought for a moment. Clearing his throat, Rabb looked over at her, "Maybe we should look at this from a more objective viewpoint. You say you're an attorney?" He tried to keep the skepticism out of his voice.   
  
He watched her begin to bristle but then she subsided, "Yes, I am." The tone of her voice told him to tread very carefully.  
  
"Well, then, why don't we argue the case and see who can convince whom?" He took a chance and grinned, "I happen to think I exist." 


	5. Part 5

Part 5  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 2038 Local  
  
Mac stared at him for a long moment in dead silence. "You're asking me to convince you... myself... that everything - including you - is nothing but my imagination run amuck? While you... me... tries to prove that you do exist?" She shook her head, muttering, "I'm going to be in therapy for years." Looking back up, she saw he was still waiting for an answer, "This is ridiculous."  
  
Rabb leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "Why are you so sure this is all your imagination?"  
  
"Because... " Mac stood up and began to pace in the small area, "Because nothing else makes sense!"  
  
He raised an eyebrow, "I don't exist because it doesn't make sense to you? Exactly how much experience have you had as a lawyer?"  
  
She wheeled around, the look on her face was thunderous, "This doesn't make sense because I was born in 1967! How can I possibly be here in the Shenandoah Valley in 18... ?"  
  
"1864," he supplied. Now it was his turn to stare, "You think you were born in 1967? How in the world did you come to believe that?" Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, he might wind up proving she was crazy.  
  
"Because it's true!"  
  
"How can it be true?" he countered. His voice became gentler, "Isn't it more likely that you've become confused? Perhaps you experienced something horrific and your mind decided to take you as far away as possible. It's certainly understandable, God knows I've seen things that made me want to flee."  
  
Mac gritted her teeth, "That's a fine theory but turn it around. For me, the year is 2003 and all of this is the fantasy."  
  
"So you're from the future?" Rabb folded his arms. "Prove it. Did this war end?" He tilted his head to one side when she nodded, "Who won?"  
  
Mac sat down, "Your side, the Union. General Lee surrendered to General Grant at Appomattox in April of 1865." She eyed him for a moment, remembering what Annabel had told her, "Has Phil Sheridan taken command of the Valley forces yet or is General Hunter still in charge?"  
  
Rabb leaned forward, frowning, "What? General Hunter is in command. What makes you think Sheridan's going to take over?"  
  
She gave him a sidelong look, "I've told you how I know. Hunter can't handle Early and Sheridan is given the job." Mac waved a hand, "All of this is history. The Union wins the war, the slaves are freed, Lincoln is killed, the Reconstruction of the South is less than smooth and Andrew Johnson becomes the first president to miss impeachment by one vote."  
  
He stared at her in confusion, "What do you mean, Lincoln is killed? How... when? It doesn't even look like he's going to be re-elected. George McClellan is running for the Democrats and he's promising to end the fighting immediately."  
  
Mac took a deep breath, "Lincoln was re-elected and then was assassinated by John Wilkes Booth less than a week after Lee's surrender. Vice-President Johnson became President."  
  
Rabb shot to his feet, "No!" He started pacing, "That can't be true!" He whirled towards her, "You're making this up just to prove your point!"  
  
Mac looked at him steadily, "Why would I do that? I don't believe any of this is really happening, remember?"  
  
He stood looking down at her for what seemed like an eternity and then said softly, "There's one way that we both can be right."  
  
Mac stared up at him and then shook her head, "No!"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Why not? Because it's impossible, that's why not. You would have both of us believe that I somehow, magically, found myself one hundred and thirty-nine years in the past? Get real!" She saw the look of confusion on his face, "What?"  
  
Rabb shook his head, "You say the oddest things. 'Get real'?" He sat down next to her, "How do you know it's not possible?"  
  
"How can you even ask that? Time travel is science fiction not science fact! It's never been done!" She leaned forward, resting her elbows and rubbing the sides of her head.  
  
"How do you know it's never been done?" He was working on convincing himself, as well. Anything would be better than deciding that she was some sort of lunatic. "It doesn't seem like something someone would mention in casual conversation." He chuckled, "They wouldn't want to appear crazy." His grin faded when he saw the look on her face, "What's wrong?"  
  
Mac looked over at him, her expression stricken, "You don't understand... I can wake up from a dream."  
  
He hesitated for just a moment and then put his hand on hers, "I'm sorry Sarah, but I am not a dream. I'm flesh and bone. I was born Josiah Tyler Rabb in Martinsburg, Pennsylvania on June 12, 1821. I attended West Point, graduated 28th in my class and was assigned to a post in coastal South Carolina. I met a wonderful woman, we fell in love and married, even though her family was appalled that I was an almost penniless, career soldier from the North. We had four children. William is twenty and a 2nd Lieutenant serving with George Thomas, Alexander is eighteen and at the Naval Academy, Molly is fourteen and at home with her aunt Arnett and my parents. Michael died of scarlet fever when he was four." His head dropped and he squeezed his eyes shut as his voice dwindled to a whisper.  
  
He felt her other hand cover his. "I'm so sorry," Mac said quietly. "To lose a child... "  
  
Rabb looked up at her, his eyes bright with tears, "... I lost my wife as well." He let his head drop back down and then felt himself in Miss MacKenzie's embrace. He clung to her as the grief washed over him again, "Cassie was my life... "  
  
Mac held on wordlessly. What could she say? With increasing fear, she realized that this was something beyond her imagination. She closed her eyes and drew in a ragged breath as she finally accepted what had happened. Somehow, someway, she was trapped in the past without the means to escape.   
  
Rabb drew away first, wiping his face and taking a deep breath, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have burdened you with that." He tried half a smile, "It's been getting better. Usually I can remember her without the pain. Every now and then, though, it overwhelms me."  
  
"She must have been very special," Mac said softly.   
  
He smiled fondly, "She was... Cassandra Seville Parker Rabb. She was smaller than you with hair like burnished copper. A loving heart and more grit than an entire squadron of cavalry troopers." He quirked an eyebrow at Mac, "She had a temper that, I suspect, matches your own. I didn't cross her any more than I had to. We had a good marriage. It didn't last nearly long enough, not nearly..." He took a deep breath and stood up, "I'm sorry. This discussion wasn't supposed to be about my problems. Where were we?"  
  
Mac couldn't help the catch in her throat, "We were deciding that I have somehow found myself in 1864. I don't know how I got here and I don't know how to get back." She stared down at her hands. What was she going to do? She didn't belong in this time.  
  
"I'm sorry," he knelt down next to her, "If there's anything I can do to help..."   
  
Mac looked away with a sharp, bitter laugh, "Tell me how I should dress, and talk, and act. Tell me how to give up the life I knew, my friends, the man I love... ." She turned back and looked at him, her eyes were almost black, "Tell me how to avoid death, because I don't think I'll be able to survive for long in this time and place."  
  
Rabb jerked himself upright, "Stop saying that! Do you want to die that badly?"  
  
"No, but I can see how it will happen." She held up a hand, "Let me finish." Mac took a deep breath, "And tell me when I'm wrong. You are going to find somewhere here in the Valley for me to stay because you can't have a woman with you in battle. It isn't proper and it's not safe. Hopefully, they won't mind that I was brought to them by a Yankee, that I'm a Yankee myself. I have no friends, no relations, no money, no home. Hunter's already started the destruction but when Phil Sheridan takes charge, it will be far worse. He's going to drive what's left of the Confederate army out and then he's going to turn this Valley into a wasteland. Grant's orders tell him to make sure that 'a crow flying over the Valley will have to carry his own rations' and he will follow those orders with a vengeance. These people who have lost husbands, brothers, fathers and sons will now lose everything else. You'll be gone and I'll be here. A living, breathing target for their pain and rage. What exactly do you suppose my chances are of surviving?"  
  
He stared at her soundlessly and she looked at her hands again, "About the only thing I will be able to control is making sure that they have to kill me quickly - and I'll be thankful for that small blessing." She lapsed into silence.  
  
Rabb stood looking down at her for several long minutes. The scenario she'd laid out was appalling... and probably true. People were tired of the fighting, embittered by the horrible cost. Grant had lost somewhere between sixty and seventy thousand men in four months' time and Lincoln was asking for another half million to be drafted. The war was taking a new and ugly turn, both on the frontlines and at home. The viciousness of the New York Draft Riots last year had shocked onlookers and one had to look no further than the bloody landscape of Missouri to realize how devastating this conflict could be when the traditional rules of war were no longer followed.  
  
Rabb sat down heavily next to Mac and took one of her hands. When she looked over at him, he gave her a wan smile, "That is not acceptable. We'll just have to see about getting you back where you belong." He cleared his throat, "Until then, 'Colonel', I'm placing you under arrest for assaulting Federal soldiers. You will consider yourself our prisoner."   
  
Mac stared at him with an unreadable expression. Dear God, this was so much like Harm's normal blend of off-the-cuff improvisation and brilliance that it was eerie. As a prisoner of the Union Army, he had the excuse to keep her with the regiment while he looked for suitable quarters to confine her. Hopefully, it would also lessen the hostility of the locals. "Thank you," she said finally. Then she rose to her feet and came to attention, "Sir, permission to withdraw?"  
  
Rabb climbed to his feet as well, "In a moment, madam." He turned and bellowed, "Sergeant Fitzgerald!" Moments later, a startled Fitzgerald appeared in the tent. The Major eyed him suspiciously, he'd obviously been just outside. How much had he heard? "Sergeant, I have placed Miss MacKenzie under arrest for her assault on Garrett, Jenson and Caine. She will be confined to camp until I decide on suitable punishment. You may escort her back to the wagon."  
  
Fitzgerald blinked, "Sir? Ummm... Yes sir! Shall I post a guard, sir?"  
  
"I don't believe that will be necessary, Sergeant." He looked at Mac, who was still standing impassively at attention, "Miss MacKenzie! Do you give me your word that you will not try to escape?"  
  
"Yes sir!"  
  
Rabb looked from Mac to Fitzgerald, "Very well. Dismissed!" He stifled a grin when Miss MacKenzie executed a precise left-face and marched out of the room. Fitzgerald gave him a look and hurried after her.   
  
He dropped back into the chair as Billy put his head into the tent, "Sir, may we remove the dishes?" Rabb nodded and Billy gestured to someone outside the tent. Privates Mott and Taylor came in and in a very few minutes, had everything squared away.  
  
As soon as they left, Billy was back in again, "Will there be anything else, sir?"  
  
Rabb grinned, this was Billy's way of begging for information. "In the morning, Lieutenant. We'll discuss this in the morning." It might not hurt to enlist more help, but he wouldn't do anything without conferring with Sarah.  
  
********  
  
Fitzgerald and Mac walked silently back to the wagon. She had a lot to think about and the Sergeant was apparently at a loss. Once there, she turned and smiled at him, "Thank you, Sergeant."  
  
"Yes ma'am," Fitzgerald said. He lingered a little, obviously unhappy, "Ma'am, I wouldn't worry too much about being under arrest. I'm sure the Major has his reasons."  
  
"It's all right, Sergeant. The Major did explain his reasons and I agree with him. This is for the best." She turned and accepted the Sergeant's hand while climbing into the wagon, "Thank you and good night, Sergeant. I'll see you in the morning." 


	6. Part 6

Part Six  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 0600 Local  
  
Mac awoke to the sounds of drums rolling and bugles braying throughout the camp. Hurriedly, she splashed water on her face and dragged the comb through her hair. When she got back to the wagon last night, it had been apparent that someone had been busy on her behalf - probably Fitzgerald. She found supplies laid out for her: a comb, toothbrush, small sewing kit, tin cup, claspknife, spoon, a polished piece of metal to use as a mirror and a haversack. He'd also assembled extra socks, another shirt and an overcoat to go with what she was already wearing. Not quite knowing what to expect, she had slept in the shirt and pants from yesterday. Stuffing her feet into her shoes, she threw on the uniform jacket and stuck her head out of the wagon.  
  
Everywhere was the controlled chaos that bespoke an imminent move. She stepped out of the wagon and looked around. Tents were being struck, teams hitched, officers and non-coms moving quickly amidst the men. Mac headed to the area where Major Rabb's tent had been and ran into Sergeant Fitzgerald. He was mounted on a rangy dapple gray and leading a smaller, nondescript chestnut.  
  
"Miss MacKenzie! The Major sent me to fetch you." He dismounted as he was talking and strode towards her, "I've brought you a mount." He paused for a moment, uncertain, "Do you know how to ride?"  
  
Mac grimaced slightly, "Not well." Resolutely, she stepped forward and took the reins to the chestnut, "I guess this will be on-the-job training."  
  
Fitzgerald gave her a confused look, "Ummm, yes ma'am." Once she was up, he remounted and turned to the left, "This way, ma'am."  
  
They rode quietly for a few minutes, weaving through the bustle. Mac looked over at the Sergeant, "What's happened?"  
  
He didn't answer but pulled up instead, putting out a hand to stop her as well, "Listen."  
  
She sat there for a moment and then she heard it, a deep-throated rumbling. She looked at Fitzgerald, "Artillery?"  
  
He smiled grimly, "Old Jube's fixin' to wake snakes and General Hunter's decided to advance in the other direction. We're part of the rearguard." He spurred his mount onward and Mac hurried her horse after him.   
  
They came across the Major a few minutes later. He was dismounted amidst a group of other officers, drawing lines in the dirt. Finishing what he was telling them, Rabb glanced up at Fitzgerald and Mac, "Good morning." He swung up into the saddle and headed out, gesturing for them to follow along. He looked over at the Sergeant, "General Early's on the move again, Tommy, and we're supposed to slow him down at Harrisonburg. I want you to put Miss MacKenzie somewhere safe."   
  
Fitzgerald looked like he wanted to protest, but all he said was, "Yes sir."  
  
Mac thought about arguing as well but reconsidered. She knew very little about the weaponry of this time period and how it might affect tactics. Maybe she could convince the Sergeant to find her a safe place with a view. She glanced over to find Rabb watching her, "Yes, Major?"  
  
"I trust you'll follow Sergeant Fitzgerald's orders?" Mac nodded and he smiled, "Thank you. Perhaps if the Secesh prove accommodating, you'll join me again for dinner?"  
  
Mac smiled back, "I'd enjoy that, thank you."  
  
Rabb's smile grew wider, "The pleasure is all mine, madam. I will see you tonight." With that, he touched his fingers to the brim of his hat, wheeled his horse to the right and galloped off.  
  
Mac watched him ride away until he was lost from view. She turned back to find Fitzgerald watching her appraisingly. She raised an eyebrow, "Yes, Sergeant?"  
  
"Nothing, ma'am. Nothing at all," Fitzgerald said with what Mac considered to be a woefully inadequate attempt at innocence. "If you'll come with me, ma'am. We've got a bit of ride." He turned his horse and went in the opposite direction of Major Rabb.  
  
They rode along in silence for several minutes before Mac finally asked, "Where are we going, Sergeant?"  
  
"Towards New Market, ma'am. The supply and baggage wagons will be there under a light guard. It's far enough to the rear, so it should be safe." He glanced sideways at her to gauge her reaction. He felt more than a little relieved that she hadn't objected. She nodded once and then lapsed into silence, apparently absorbed in her own thoughts.   
  
Fitzgerald studied her as unobtrusively as he could. Josiah Rabb was showing an interest in this woman and the Sergeant meant to see that he didn't get hurt. He'd run into Rabb as a newly-minted, wet-behind-the-ears 2nd Lieutenant and developed a liking for the young man. The Lieutenant had shown an uncommon amount of sense in letting his sergeants continue his military education. The Regular Army had been pretty small in those days, it wasn't hard to keep track. Their paths crossed numerous times over the years and when this war had broken out, Tommy had pulled in favors so he could serve in Rabb's command.  
  
He glanced over at Miss MacKenzie again. He didn't know quite what to make of her. He didn't like masculine, uppity women on the whole. This one was obviously comfortable wearing men's clothing and although it was apparent that she wasn't an experienced rider, it was also apparent that she had learned to ride astride. Add that to the fact that she had easily flattened three men... he paused for a moment. To be scrupulously fair, she'd only truly whupped the tar out of Caine... and that was with one well-placed punch. The man had been wobbly for a good hour afterwards. She'd tripped Garrett using some fancy Indian-wrestling sort of move and then Jensen had managed to run into Garrett, knocking them both down. She hadn't let the Major intimidate her either. All in all, Fitzgerald decided he had more than ample cause to despise her... except that he didn't.  
  
She was soft-spoken and polite, hadn't complained or whined about the situation she found herself in. Hadn't prattled on either, which was a blessed relief. With a dress on and her hair grown out proper again, she'd be right pretty. She was feisty and he suspected that was what really attracted the Major. Cassandra Rabb had been feisty, too.  
  
"Sergeant Fitzgerald?" Her soft voice broke into his musings.  
  
"Yes ma'am?"  
  
"It's gotten awfully quiet."  
  
It had. No birds sang and even the cicadas were silent. His eyes widened and the hair on the back of his neck rose. Damnation! Why hadn't he been paying attention? He didn't look at her as he said quietly, "Get ready to ride, ma'am." They went a few more steps and he let his mount drift half a length back. Suddenly, he yelled, "Now!" and brought the flat of his hand down on the chestnut's rump.   
  
Gunfire erupted as the two horses leaped forward into a gallop. He heard the hornet-like buzz of bullets all around even as his horse stumbled and slowed. The gray managed a few more lengths before it collapsed. As the horse went down, Fitzgerald threw himself clear, rolling to a stop in the middle of the road. He scrambled to his feet and turned back in time to see four horsemen appear from the thickets on both sides. Cursing, he ran back to the gray. If he could get his carbine free, he might stand half a chance.  
  
Pounding hooves behind him had his heart in his throat as he turned and saw Miss MacKenzie galloping back to him. "What are you doing?!! Get out of here!!"  
  
She ignored him as she hauled her horse to stop, "Get on!"  
  
"NO! There's no time! Get out!" He pulled the carbine out of the boot as he yelled at her.   
  
Next thing he knew, she was beside him, watching the oncoming riders. "Give me your pistol!"  
  
He stared at her, "What?!" More gunshots had them both crouching as the riders swept towards them.  
  
Exasperated, Mac reached over and yanked the pistol out of its holster. Fitzgerald spared her one more startled look before raising the carbine and opening fire. She kept low and waited, the distance in which the pistol was accurate wasn't much. Mac held steady as bullets whizzed by. She had time to be amazed at the accuracy of the riders. She'd have sworn you couldn't hit anything from a galloping horse. That was just something Hollywood liked to do. One raider went cartwheeling off his horse as Fitzgerald's fire struck home. Then it was time.  
  
Mac fired off three rounds and watched a rider suddenly slump forward. She was surprised she'd hit anything, the heavy revolver kicked like a mule. Then she was throwing herself to one side as the remaining riders charged past. A spray of bits and slivers of stone peppered her as bullets slammed into the macadam surface of the road. She kept rolling and came up on her knees, pistol braced in both hands. Mac hazarded a quick glance over at Fitzgerald and sucked in her breath. He was down and curled on his side.   
  
The rapid clatter of hooves dragged her attention back to their adversaries. Again, Mac was forced to wait for them to come into range. She only had time for one target as she squeezed off two more rounds. One more assailant tumbled from his horse and then she was scrambling once again to get out of the way of the other. She'd waited too long this time and went spinning as the horse's shoulder clipped her own. She caught herself on her hands and knees, wincing as the sharp little stones cut into her palms. She had lost the pistol during the collision and she cast about frantically trying to locate it before the remaining rider came back to finish her off.  
  
Hoofbeats and gunfire told her she had run out of time. She lunged for the carbine near Fitzgerald as more shots spattered around her and came up swinging it like a baseball bat. She connected with a satisfying thump, knocking the last man clear out of the saddle. He landed on his back and his head made contact with the road with a sickening crunch. He didn't get up again. Mac stood there numbly for a little bit, surveying the carnage and then remembered the Sergeant.  
  
She hurried over to him and lowered herself gingerly on knees already sore from their last contact with the road. "Sergeant? Can you hear me?" Carefully, she rolled him onto his back. At least he was still breathing. Blood was oozing from where he had his hands clamped to his side. She grabbed his wrists and pried unsuccessfully at his hands. He had a grip like iron. "Dammit, Fitzgerald! Let go, so I can see!"  
  
"You... oughtn' ta swear... like that... Not ladylike," the Sergeant wheezed, opening one eye. He still hadn't relinquished his grip.  
  
Mac stared at him in exasperation, "So sue me! Let go before I say something worse!" He loosened his hands and she pulled them away. The wound was halfway up his side. She started unbuttoning his coat, and then his shirt and he swatted ineffectually at her hands.  
  
"What are y' doin? That's not proper. The Major..."   
  
"Will not be pleased if I let you bleed to death. Hold on a minute, I'll be right back." She climbed to her feet and cautiously approached one of the horses that was now grazing at the side of the road. It rolled an eye at her and then continued to eat. Mac lifted the canteen off the saddle and then checked the saddlebags. In the second one, she found a flask wrapped in a shirt. She grabbed them both and hurried back to Fitzgerald.  
  
Kneeling down again, she ripped a sleeve off the shirt and wiped at the blood. Then she picked up the flask and stopped for a moment over the wound. She glanced at Fitzgerald, "This is going to hurt."  
  
He raised an eyebrow, "Darlin', it hurts already. Get to it."  
  
"Right," She took a breath and then poured the liquor over the wound. Fitzgerald sucked in a breath with a hiss. Mac dabbed at the wound and took a closer look.   
  
The Sergeant stared at her, "What?"  
  
She gave him a quick look, "I think I can see the bullet." She pointed at his side, "It looks like it bounced off a rib and then slid around."  
  
He grunted, "Must've been hit by a ricochet. Can you get it out?"  
  
Mac looked at him in alarm, "Me? I'm no doctor."  
  
"That wasn't what I asked. Can you get it out? I don't fancy dying from blood poison."  
  
Mac didn't answer right away, sitting back on her heels. She took a quick look up and down the road. Flies were beginning to swarm around the bodies and the sickly sweet smell of blood was starting to get to her. They needed to get away from here. She took a deep breath and looked back at Fitzgerald, "I'll try." She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the claspknife. Opening it up, she picked up the flask and then paused, "Do you want any of this?"  
  
Fitzgerald shook his head, "No ma'am, took a temperance oath a while back. Don't intend to break it now."  
  
Mac nodded silently and splashed liquor on the blade and then more on the wound. Fitzgerald flinched but didn't say anything. She studied the area. It looked like the bullet had tunneled just under the surface from where it had deflected off the rib. If she cut lengthwise along the tunnel, she could probably pop it right out without having to dig. She glanced up at the Sergeant, "Get ready." Taking another deep breath and clenching her jaw, she began to cut. Less than a minute later, she was staring at a bloody, misshapen chunk of metal. Mac handed it to Fitzgerald and began ripping what was left of the shirt into strips for bandages. "This will have to do until we can get something cleaner on that. I don't want it to get infected."  
  
"Yes, ma'am." He clenched his teeth as she pulled him upright to wrap the bandages around his middle. He took a swig from the canteen she offered and then laid back down.  
  
Mac stood up, "I'll get the horses together."  
  
"Just keep two and turn the rest loose," Fitzgerald told her. Mac nodded and headed out. Surprisingly, none of the horses had really gone all that far. In fifteen minutes, she was back with her chestnut and a sturdy-looking bay. The rest, she had stripped off saddles and bridles and turned loose. Fitzgerald eyed the pistol and holster she was now wearing. He wasn't going to complain, she'd earned the right to carry them.  
  
Mac picked up the carbine and shoved it into the rifle boot on her saddle. She turned back to the Sergeant, "Ready?"  
  
He nodded and together they got him to his feet. With his arm across her shoulder, they made it to the bay. He climbed and she shoved and they got him into the saddle. She was glad he wasn't a big man. He waited hunched over while she clambered onto the chestnut. Mac looked at him, "I have no idea where we are. Which way do we go?"  
  
Fitzgerald nodded back the way they had come, "That way, we're closer to the front than to New Market." Together, they headed down the road. Mac kept close in case the Sergeant needed steadying. It had taken them an hour and twenty-three minutes to get this far down the road. It would probably take quite a bit more to get back.  
  
Mac rode along, all her senses keyed up. The adrenalin rush was beginning to fade. Was this how it was going to be? Death by ambush? She could feel her muscles tense, anticipating the shot from an unseen assailant. Stop it, Mac told herself fiercely. If there'd been anyone else, they would have joined the first group. She looked up and down the road again and tried to relax. The scrapes on her hands and knees ached and her shoulder felt stiff where the horse had collided with it. She needed to stop worrying and be grateful she hadn't been hit. Medical care in this era probably killed more often than it saved.  
  
Mac glanced over at Fitzgerald. He was still hunched over, looking straight ahead. She couldn't quite figure him out. Sometimes he seemed to regard her as a favorite daughter of sorts and other times like she was his cross to bear in this world. She gave a mental shrug, no doubt she confused him as much as he confused her. Mac scanned the area around them again and then looked at Fitzgerald, "Sergeant?" He turned his head slightly to look at her. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, "Who were those guys?"  
  
Fitzgerald gave her a look that she was beginning to classify as 'Wrong Century' and finally said carefully, "Bushwackers or irregulars, one of the two. I shoulda thought about it and gotten an escort. These blue coats might as well have bull's eyes painted on 'em. Just the two of us made a mighty tempting target." He was silent for a few strides, "Where'd you learn to shoot like that?" He couldn't think of many women who could hit the broad side of a barn with a horse pistol. Hell, a lot of men weren't that good at it either. He, himself, only used it in close quarters - usually when he was within five or six feet.  
  
Mac thought about it for a little bit. The truth, the U.S. Marine Corps, would hardly do. Apparently, women didn't use handguns that often. Finally, she opted for a version of the truth, "My uncle taught me. He's a Marine."   
  
Fitzgerald grunted thoughtfully, he owed that fellow a drink if he ever ran into him. Slowly, they continued down the road. After a few more minutes, he looked over at her, "Miss Sarah?"   
  
Mac looked at him in surprise, he'd never called her by her given name before. "Yes, Sergeant?"  
  
"Thank you."  
  
She gave him a warm smile, "You're welcome."  
  
He looked down at his horse's mane for a moment and cleared his throat, "My friends call me Tommy."  
  
Mac looked at him gravely, "Thank you, Tommy." Then she grinned at him, "My friends call me Mac."  
  
His eyebrows rose, "Mac? That don't seem hardly proper, ma'am." He dwindled off as she raised an eyebrow and then nodded abruptly, "That was mighty nice shooting back there, Mac."  
  
Mac laughed, "Thanks, Tommy. Let's hope I don't have to do it again."  
  
"Amen to that." 


	7. Part 7

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting, I've been out of town for the last week without access to the Internet.  
  
Part Seven  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1250 Local  
  
Rabb pulled out a kerchief and mopped his face. There was a lull at the moment but for a while, it had been hot work. He surveyed his portion of the line. They were pulling back in good order. Despite the fact they were retreating, the men were in good spirits. He shook his head. He didn't think much of Hunter, most of the man's success came when he made war on women and children. Faced with the irascible Early and his battle-hardened little army, Hunter lost his nerve. Rabb made it a point never to criticize a superior officer in public, but sometimes it was hard.  
  
He looked out over the line again. A dust cloud told him the Rebs were moving again. Probably another mounted foray, he thought to himself, watching the cloud closely. For the last hour or so, Early had been content to probe their lines with fast moving cavalry. If earlier confrontations were any indication, aside from light skirmishing, the main fighting was over for the day. Of course, that didn't mean they shouldn't remain vigilant. Bobby Lee had taught the Federal Armies not to get complacent. Thank God, Stonewall Jackson was dead. Early was good but Jackson had been a genius. Rabb heard the hoofbeats behind him and glanced back. Billy Douglas was coming up. He turned his attention back to his lines while he waited for the Lieutenant to join him.  
  
"Major, they're back!" Douglas sounded a little breathless.  
  
"I can see that, Billy," Rabb said mildly, "It's only a feint, you haven't missed anything."  
  
"No sir, I mean, yes sir. Sir, I meant Fitzgerald and Miss MacKenzie. They're back." Douglas looked at him anxiously.  
  
Rabb stared at him, "What? Why? Goddammit, what the hell was Fitzgerald thinking? I wanted them away from here."  
  
"Sir, they ran into trouble. The Sergeant was shot."  
  
Rabb blanched. He turned and bellowed, "Orderly! My horse!" Turning back to Douglas, he snapped, "Find Captain Forrest, tell him he's in charge until I get back." His orderly hurried over, Rabb snatched the reins out of his hand and flung himself into the saddle. "Surgeon's tent?" he demanded. Douglas nodded and watched as the Major galloped off. He turned his own horse and headed off to find Captain Forrest.  
  
*******  
  
He wasn't sure what he expected when he rode up to the field hospital. He assumed that Tommy must have been hit while they were escaping from whatever trouble they'd found. Otherwise, they wouldn't have made it back here and if Sarah had been hurt, Billy would have been sure to mention it. The last thing he expected to see was a stand-off between Miss MacKenzie and Dr. Morton. They weren't exactly toe to toe but they were close. At the moment, Sarah was glaring at Morton with her arms folded, while he yelled and waved his hands around. An interested gaggle of walking wounded, rear-echelon troops and the inevitable shirkers were watching with a fair amount of amusement. The stress of battle combined with the sudden worry over Fitzgerald had already frayed his temper to the breaking point. Coming upon a confrontation involving his temperamental surgeon was the last straw.  
  
Dismounting, he threw his reins at the nearest private and stomped into the circle of space the audience had given the two adversaries. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!" he roared. The outer ring of the audience quietly began melting away.  
  
Morton, his face red with rage, turned to Rabb, "Get This... This Female Away From My Hospital!!!" He threw her a venomous look, "She's impertinent and rude and disruptive! By God, I don't have to put up with this! She's a danger to the men!" Chest heaving with righteous indignation, Morton glared at Rabb, "Remove her or, so help me God, sir, I will!"  
  
Rabb turned an icy look on Mac. Goddammit, he just wanted to find out how badly Fitzgerald was hurt and now he had to placate his enraged medical officer. He'd never warmed up to Morton and the annoyance he felt when listening to the doctor's frequent outbursts made him feel guilty. Confound the woman for setting the man off! What the hell was she doing harassing the doctor anyway? Why wasn't she with Fitzgerald?! The man had been wounded protecting her, common decency should have placed her at his side!! Damnation! If she couldn't even do that, then she didn't need to be here at all! Struggling to rein in his temper, he bit out each word, "Miss MacKenzie! This area is off-limits for you. Please leave at once!"  
  
He saw disappointment flash across her face and for some reason, that made him angrier. He jabbed a finger away from the hospital, "Now!" Her face settled into an impassive mask as she turned and walked away, stiff-backed. He watched her stalk off and then realized with a start that she was wearing a holster and pistol. What the hell was she thinking?! "Miss MacKenzie!" She stopped and turned around. He pointed at the pistol, "Take that off!" She stared at him for several seconds and then with deliberate movements, unbuckled the holster, wrapped it into a neat bundle and placed it carefully on the ground. Straightening up, she looked him in the eye, turned and marched off.  
  
Rabb let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding and turned to a considerably calmer Dr. Morton, "Where's Sergeant Fitzgerald?"  
  
Morton gestured off to the right, "Over there, under that tree."  
  
Rabb hurried in the indicated direction and found Fitzgerald leaning against the tree trunk. With a relieved smile, he knelt down next to the Sergeant, "How are you, Tommy?"  
  
Fitzgerald eyed him, stone-faced, "Permission to speak freely, Major?"  
  
Rabb gave him a perplexed look, "Always, Tommy, you know that."  
  
"Well then, sir, I'd have to say I'm feeling relieved and ashamed." He paused and stared at the surprised Major, "I'm relieved that I can't stand up or I'd surely try to hit you and I don't much feel like losing my stripes just now. And I'm ashamed for the way you treated Miss MacKenzie. She didn't deserve that - not after everything she's been through."  
  
Rabb frowned, feeling his anger start to rise again. Had she told Fitzgerald her 'lost in time' story and gained his sympathy? Despite what he'd heard and said last night; in the cold light of day, Rabb was feeling more skeptical. Irritably, he asked, "What kind of story did she tell you, Sergeant?" Dammit, if she was spreading it around this easily, maybe it was just a story and he had seriously misjudged her. Oh hell, maybe she was laughing up her sleeve at him even now.  
  
Fitzgerald looked at him angrily, "She didn't tell me a story... sir. What she did was save my life and her own when we were bushwacked on the road. That woman's a better shot with a pistol than a lot of men I know and rock steady in a fight."  
  
"What?" Rabb's eyes widened in surprise, "But I thought... " He listened in dumfounded silence as Fitzgerald gave him the gist of the story. When the Sergeant finished, he sat for a long moment and then asked, "What about Dr. Morton?"  
  
Fitzgerald shrugged and then winced a little, "Didn't hear, you'll have to ask her about it... after you've apologized." He gave a dry chuckle, "Maybe it's a good thing you made her take off the gun. Otherwise, she might not let you get close." Watching the Major get up and stride away, Fitzgerald shook his head and muttered, "I damn sure wouldn't."  
  
********  
  
Mac stomped off, not really paying attention to where she was going. The men who had been watching, parted silently. Some were smirking, others were looking sympathetic. She didn't really care as she struggled with an almost overwhelming sense of betrayal. He hadn't even considered her side of the argument!  
  
'Stop it,' she told herself firmly. This wasn't Harm. This was a man from the 1800's, a time when women weren't much better than chattel. It was stupid of her to expect twenty-first century behavior in this era - she didn't always get it in 2003. Hell, women didn't even get the vote in this country until 1920! Unfortunately, knowing all that didn't make it hurt any less.   
  
Mac slowed down and looked around. She was still in the rear echelons of Army. Dammit, these people were like ants, they were everywhere. She glanced around again. For two cents, she'd keep walking until she was out of this Army, this Valley, this nightmare... . Hugging herself, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to ease the tension in her shoulders. Shaking her head, Mac walked over to a tree and lowered herself to the ground. Pulling up her knees, she draped her arms on top and rested her chin. She was stuck here. She'd given her word not to escape and even though the 'arrest' was bogus, she was an officer and her word was her bond. She didn't have a helluva lot at the moment, she could, at least, hang on to her integrity.  
  
That son of a bitch! With the hospital off-limits, she wouldn't even be able to check up on Sergeant Fitzgerald. That ass that called himself a doctor would probably succeed in killing Tommy. From what she could see, he hadn't yet made the corollary between dirt and infection. It was a wonder he could see anything at all - she knew a drunk when she saw one. She'd had no intention of letting him anywhere near Fitzgerald, not until he'd scrubbed the filth and dried blood from previous patients off his hands. That had been enough to send the doctor into a tizzy. His ranting grew ever more vitriolic until shooting him had begun to seem like a viable option. Then Rabb had shown up and had, in effect, shot her instead.  
  
Mac shifted and rested her forehead on her knees, closing her eyes. Damn the man! ... No... damn herself. She kept seeing Harm when she looked at Major Rabb and kept expecting Harm's behavior. She was even feeling the same goddamn attraction. She sighed, was this what Harm had gone through - went through - every time he looked at her? No wonder it took eight friggin' years to get together... She kept her eyes closed, letting her mind drift, recalling the good times and bad that they had experienced together. Memories of enjoyable times with Harriet and Bud, Sturgis, the Admiral, even Clay (although she usually thought of times with him as exasperating) came and went until she realized she was well on the way to making herself completely miserable.   
  
Enough. Wallowing wasn't going to fix anything. She'd find Rabb and either get him to drop the arrest and let her leave or follow through and make a judgment. One way or the other, she'd get out on her own. After that, well, she'd play it by ear. Her hand found Annabel's necklace. Maybe that was what she should do, go find the White Horse Grill... Tavern... whatever the hell it was called in the 1800's. It had been the last place where her life had been normal.  
  
The soft scuff of a boot alerted her and reflexes took over. Throwing herself in the opposite direction of the sound, she rolled to her feet, reaching for a gun that was no longer there. Frustrated, she tried not to wince. Sitting curled up with knees that were scraped and bruised hadn't been a good idea. She blinked in surprise to see Rabb standing there. Slowly, she straightened up and let the mask drop into place, "Don't you have a war to attend to?"  
  
Rabb blinked at her reaction to his arrival, the woman could have been an Indian scout. He tried not to flinch at the resigned bitterness in her voice. Looking at the ground, he cleared his throat, "I came to apologize for losing my temper."  
  
Mac looked at him silently, noting that while he was apologizing for the tone, he wasn't apologizing for the words. Great, he didn't see anything wrong with what he'd done. Exasperated, she looked away as she ran a hand through her hair, then turned back and folded her arms, "Okay."  
  
"What?" Rabb looked at her, perplexed. What the hell did 'okay' mean?  
  
Mac closed her eyes briefly. Wrong Century. Damn, she took a deep breath, "I mean it's fine."  
  
The Major looked at her blankly. 'Fine'? That didn't make any sense either. Fine what?  
  
Oh for godsakes! What words did they use in this century? She glared at him, her own temper rising, "I accept your apology for losing your temper. You can go back to your war." Mac turned around and walked away. She was angry all over again, too angry to ask him anything.  
  
Rabb stared at her retreating figure, what was the matter with the woman? Goddammit! He apologized! He strode after her and grabbed an arm, "Wait."  
  
She spun back, eyes narrowed. "Let go," she ground out.  
  
He hurriedly released her, putting both hands up, "What's wrong with you? I apologized!"  
  
"Yes, you did. For losing your temper. Now leave me alone."  
  
"No! What more do you want? I don't intend to grovel, if that's what you're waiting for!" With an effort, he kept his voice level. Damn this woman!  
  
"Well, of course not! God forbid you should humiliate yourself!" The man was unbelievable!  
  
"What do you mean by that?" What the hell was she talking about?  
  
Mac folded her arms and glared at him, "When two of my people get in a dispute, I don't summarily side with one without listening to both sides first."  
  
"Is that what this is about? Your feelings were hurt?" Rabb stared at her incredulously. "The man's a doctor and he wanted you out!"  
  
Mac gritted her teeth. Just like a man to assume it was nothing more than some sort of over-the-top emotional female outburst. "That man is a drunk and a walking germ factory. I didn't want him killing Fitzgerald!"   
  
Rabb blinked, 'a what?', "I know Morton drinks but... "  
  
"He's drunk right now and I don't think the man has more than a passing acquaintance with soap and water." How the hell did anyone survive in this time?  
  
"He's drunk now? What in blazes makes you think that? And what possible difference does washing have to do with anything? He's the doctor, not you! Or are you now claiming medical knowledge?" Oh dammit, he knew as soon as he threw out that last question, it was a mistake. He watched her go from hot to icy cold.  
  
"I see." She stared at him for a long moment as he tried not to shift uncomfortably. He caught himself and felt another surge of anger. He was an officer in the Regular Army of the United States, not a child who was feeling guilty after telling a fib! Damn this woman!   
  
Finally, she spoke in a flat tone, "Let me go."  
  
His eyes widened at the abrupt change of subject, "What?"  
  
"Let me go. Either drop the charges or hold the court-martial. I can't stay like this," she stared at the ground as she spoke. How incredibly ironic. He was the one who had convinced her that this nightmare was real - that he was real - and now it was apparent he didn't believe in her.  
  
------  
  
Thought I'd reply here to some of the feedback. Hope y'all don't mind.  
  
Jaina - Probably not until the end. That's the paradox of time-travel. Everything that's going on is occurring 130 years ago.  
  
Stevie - Sorry, no website. I post here and on the Fanfiction site of Maeve's Jagnik Central.  
  
spockisright, Jet angel, Tammy and CapriceAnn - Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Wasn't sure when I started it, if I could pull it off. 


	8. Part 8

Part Eight  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1320 Local  
  
He stared at her while the pit of his stomach dropped. She wanted to leave? "No." The word just popped out of his mouth.  
  
Mac wearily scrubbed a hand across her forehead and stared at him, "Why not? It's becoming obvious that you've had second thoughts about what you said last night." She paused, "So which is it?"  
  
He eyed her carefully, he was about to step into a bear trap and there was no way around it. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Do you think I'm a liar or just crazy?"  
  
"I... neither!... You can't leave!" What was she thinking? Hadn't this morning's episode with Fitzgerald taught her anything? They could have been killed!  
  
"Of course, I can. I'm disruptive, impertinent and rude, remember? What difference does it make where I go, so long as I'm away from here? What do you want of me, anyway?" Damn! Well, now she knew that the 'A' in Rabb DNA stood for 'Ambivalence'. She looked at the ground again and sighed in frustration. Go... Stay... what in the hell did he want? Obviously, not her military skills or he wouldn't have sent her off at the first sign of combat. He had no need of her lawyering skills either. That left conversation or... her eyes narrowed. That son of a bitch! He sure as hell wasn't Harm!   
  
Rabb rubbed the back of his neck and gazed at the ground, too. He knew why didn't he want her to leave, but how to say it to her without sounding like a complete jackass? He'd only met her yesterday and while he didn't believe in love at first sight, he found she was occupying a good deal of his thoughts. He hadn't been sure if he could do this again after Cassie. He looked up to see the fire in her eyes and stepped back in surprise.  
  
She advanced on him angrily, "You... ! How dare you?! You still think I'm some sort of prostitute, don't you? That I'll... "  
  
Rabb interrupted her tirade, "What? No! How could you... Dammit, woman, I think I'm falling in love with you!"  
  
Mac stopped dead, eyes widening in shock, "What did you say?"  
  
He looked at the ground again, his voice gruff, "I know I've no right to say this to you and, truth to tell, I never expected to feel this way again but I'm falling in love with you." He fell silent, still looking down and braced himself for her response.  
  
Mac stared at him, speechless for the moment. She tucked a lock of hair behind an ear, a nervous habit, "I... I don't know what to say." His shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly and she took a step closer to him, "Josiah, you don't even know me! I wasn't expecting... it's not that... " She took a deep breath, "The problem is that I'm in love with your great-great-great grandson."  
  
Rabb looked up at her, a smile quirking at his lips, "It certainly is a problem considering he won't be born for another 100 years or so. Believe me when I say I wasn't planning on this. ... don't you have any feelings for me?"  
  
"I didn't say that. I do... I am attracted to you," she turned away, wrapping her arms around herself.  
  
"Sarah... ," he put his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her around, "Is that such a bad thing?"  
  
Her eyes seemed to look right through to his soul, "I don't know if it's you I'm attracted to or if it's because you look so much like Harm. Not that it matters, I can't fall in love with you! I don't belong in this time. I have to get back to my life."  
  
"I realize that, but you're not even sure how you came to be here or how long that will take to get back." He tried a tentative smile, "Sarah... if I've learned nothing else in these last few years, it's to seize the moment."  
  
Mac shook her head, "It wouldn't be fair to you. You have to know that, Josiah, and I can't, won't, do that to Harm."  
  
"I'm not asking for fair. I will take what happiness I can get, wherever I find it, for as long as I can hold it. There's a war going on, I could die tomorrow." He took her hand, "Sarah, I'm not trying to be melodramatic, it's fact. And I did mean what I said last night, I will do what I can to help you return to your home. In the meantime, may I have your permission to court you?"  
  
Mac smiled ruefully at him, "If you're anything like Harm, I don't see how I can stop you. You realize your chances of succeeding are exceedingly slim?"  
  
"But not non-existent," he grinned and bowed, brushing his lips over the back of her hand, "I have no qualms about tilting at windmills when the prize is as beautiful as you."  
  
Mac could feel herself blushing. This was going to be disconcerting, to say the least. Rabb smiled at her and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, "May I escort you back?"  
  
Somewhat bemused, Mac nodded and they turned back towards Rabb's regiment. They'd only gotten a few steps before Mac's eyes narrowed and she pulled her hand free. Rabb turned towards her in bewilderment. Mac glared at him, "What about Tommy? Is the hospital still off-limits? Morton's just as likely to kill him as cure him."  
  
His bewilderment changed to exasperation, not this again. "Dr. Morton is a competent surgeon and doctor! I'm sure Fitzgerald will prosper under his care. Why do you insist on bringing this up? A military field hospital is no place for women!"  
  
Mac squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds, resisting the urge to kick the man's six. She took a deep breath, "Josiah, I watched the man work. He doesn't wash his hands or his instruments in between patients."  
  
"What in the world does that have to do with anything?" Rabb kept a check on his temper. He didn't want to start another donnybrook with the stubborn woman.  
  
"He's spreading infection. Hell, he's causing infection and it's killing your wounded. You don't have any way to cure it." Mac tried to keep her voice level. Even though Tommy's wound was minor, it could get out of hand in a hurry if it became infected.  
  
Rabb stared at her, "What are you talking about? How can he spread infection? The doctors always look for some laudable pus from a wound. They say it's the body's way of healing."  
  
Mac put a hand on his arm, "Listen to me, Josiah. In my time, it's common knowledge that wounds have to be kept clean in order to heal quickly. Nothing goes near an open wound unless it's been cleaned thoroughly. The bandages need to be changed often and whoever's taking care of it needs to wash their hands before they touch anything. Do that and more of your men will survive." Rabb still looked skeptical. Mac let out a frustrated breath and put her hands on her hips, "Let me take care of Fitzgerald and I'll show you what I'm talking about."  
  
Rabb looked a little aghast, "But... it's not proper for a woman to do hospital work!"  
  
She tilted her head to one side and grinned suddenly, "If it were you, who would you rather have? Dr. Morton or me?" His face was a study in conflicting emotions and Mac stifled a chuckle, "If it makes you feel better, have Pvt. Mott assist me."  
  
He sighed, she was worse than Cassie. "Very well." He pointed a finger at her, "At the first sign that Tommy's getting worse, Dr. Morton will take over."  
  
Mac put out a hand, "Deal."   
  
Rabb looked at her hand for a moment before engulfing it in his own. "Deal."  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1030 Local  
  
Three days had passed since Mac and Rabb had reached their agreement. While she had never quite thought of herself as Florence Nightingale, it had been a welcome diversion. Fortunately, Fitzgerald's care was more a matter of basic hygiene. Keep everything clean and his normally robust constitution would take care of the rest. It gave her a purpose, as well as a reason to stay with the regiment... and Josiah. She shook her head, he hadn't been kidding about courting her and he certainly wasn't shy. This was one Rabb who didn't have commitment problems. Still, he remained a gentleman, when she said stop, he did. The problem was that she could foresee a time when she wasn't going to want to say stop. Mac heaved a quiet sigh, damn that Rabb charisma.  
  
The other problem was what to do when Tommy went back on duty. Fitzgerald had made amazing progress and was already fussing about the inactivity. She and the Sergeant were the object of a good deal of attention. Word had run through the regiment about the deal and captured the men's fancy. Everybody loved an underdog (and very few liked Morton), so they were willing to overlook the impropriety and cheer her on. It'd been somewhat disconcerting to find that she had been adopted by the soldiers as a sort of mascot.   
  
The men were also keen on a romance between the Major and herself. He was a popular officer. They appreciated his no-nonsense attitude. You knew where you stood with Rabb because he didn't beat around the bush and he combined that with a reputation for never needlessly risking his men's lives. That he was dashing, brave and handsome only added fuel to the fire. The story of her and Fitzgerald's escape from the bushwackers had also made the rounds. Apparently, most of these rough and tumble men had a huge sentimental streak. They decided she was 'plucky' and a good match for their Major. Mac could expect smiles and smug looks of approval whenever she found herself in Rabb's company. Initially, there'd been some looks about the way she dressed, but now they were becoming accustomed to her penchant for wearing pants. Her proponents declared that it showed a good deal of common sense.  
  
Then there was the problem of being with this Union army. It was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. On his retreat northward, Hunter had taken time to burn the Virginia Military Institute in New Market in retaliation for the cadets' part in the earlier Battle of New Market. That the cadets were long gone didn't bother him in the least. Since the military in her time usually tried to avoid collateral damage, this deliberate destruction was grating. She wasn't sure how she was going to handle it if she was still here when Sheridan took over. The only bright spot was that Rabb's men didn't take part in the destruction. His regiment was still active as the rearguard.  
  
There was also the little matter of being stuck in this place. She'd had dinner with Josiah every night. Nothing as elaborate as that first meal, but pleasant, nonetheless. They'd gone over everything that had happened to her and hadn't truly reached any conclusions. Massanutten Mountain was somehow involved and perhaps the White Horse Tavern. (Rabb knew of the place. It had simply been called McNair's Tavern up until the death of General Turner Ashby at the beginning of the war. The name had been changed to White Horse because of the white stallion Ashby rode.) The problem was that Josiah said the road on Massanutten was fairly well traveled both day and night and nothing untoward had been reported. It was frustrating as hell.  
  
Mac looked up from her musings, "I'm sorry, Tommy, what were you saying?"  
  
Fitzgerald grunted to himself. He was learning quite a bit about this young woman. She was turning more than a few of his notions about women upside down. For one thing, she was better educated than probably anybody around and that included the Major. It wasn't like she hit you over the head with it, it just became apparent when you talked with her. Nor were her interests what he expected. He thought women talked about children, men, fashion and each other. When Billy Douglas had stopped by yesterday (more to see her than to see him, Fitzgerald was fairly certain), the three of them had gotten into a discussion of tactics and strategy. Miss Sarah... Mac, had more than held her own. He was going to remember, with a great deal of satisfaction, the look on Billy's face when Mac finally told him that a good non-com was worth his weight in callow second lieutenants.  
  
"Tommy?" Mac smiled, apparently she wasn't the only one who was wool-gathering.   
  
Fitzgerald started, "What? Oh... sorry Mac." He shifted a little, they were both sitting on the ground in front of his tent, "Have you talked to the Major today?"  
  
She shook her head, "No, is there some reason I should have?"  
  
He scratched behind an ear, "According to Billy, he's going to have a word with Morton about doing things your way. I imagine there's gonna be quite a row."  
  
Mac shrugged, "In the end, Morton will still have follow orders and it will save lives."  
  
Tommy shook his head, "That's not exactly what's worrying me." He poked at the ground a couple of times before looking back up at her, "Did you know there's a small group within the regiment that doesn't like you very much?"  
  
She raised an eyebrow while shaking her head, "No, but it doesn't surprise me. I can't be everybody's darling." Mac grinned, "Let me guess: I don't know how to dress properly and I'm uppity."  
  
He smiled for a moment and then shook a finger at her, "Now don't go making light of this. Dr. Morton is one of them... Ezra Caine is another."  
  
That sobered her, "You're not suggesting that he'd try anything, are you?" She still remembered the leer on Caine's face when he looked at her. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he wanted to do.  
  
Fitzgerald snorted, "Not openly, but that don't mean he won't be watchin'. Don't you go giving him and his cronies any chance at you, you hear?"  
  
Mac nodded, "I'll be careful."   
  
******  
  
As Tommy had predicted, when Rabb told Morton about the changes he wanted instituted, the resulting fireworks could be heard in the next county. It ended with Rabb relieving Morton of duty and placing him under arrest. Billy came by afterwards to share the particulars with Mac and Tommy.  
  
"... fit to be tied," Billy reported with relish. "The Major let Morton rant for a time but you could see his neck getting redder and redder. Then he accused the Major of... " Douglas stopped suddenly and gulped, glancing over at Tommy.  
  
Mac put a hand out, "It's all right, Billy. I can guess what Morton said." She looked at the two men, "How many others are saying or thinking the same thing?"  
  
They exchanged looks and then Tommy coughed slightly, "Well, now, that's hard to say. There's been a fair amount of speculation. It's mostly just talk, mind you, and a lot of the men don't think about it one way or t'other. Of the ones that do, most think the Major's too much of a gentleman to take advantage. The rest wish it was them."  
  
Leaning back, Mac sighed. Typical of these men to not think that she might have some say in the matter. To be fair, they did know the Major better, so she wasn't going to be offended. She looked back at Billy, "What happened after Morton said that?"  
  
Billy grinned, "The Major got real quiet and then he called for his horse and the Doctor's. You should have seen Morton's face, he suddenly went white as a sheet. He started stuttering about them being officers but the Major cut him off. Told Morton that he'd give him a chance to defend his point of view without worrying about striking a superior officer. When the horses got there, the men practically threw Morton in the saddle and he and the Major rode off to a little copse of woods. I followed with Garrett - to make sure they weren't interrupted," Douglas added hastily, looking at Fitzgerald. Tommy nodded and Billy continued, "Morton wouldn't fight - kept yammering about being a man of healing and that he couldn't condone violence. The Major told him that it was this or pistols. He had insulted both the Major and you, ma'am, and he would have to answer for it."  
  
Mac stared at him, "You're joking. Major Rabb was willing to shoot Morton?"  
  
Billy nodded, looking a little perplexed, "Well... yes ma'am. He doesn't normally hold with dueling but he was pretty angry and Morton said things he couldn't let pass."  
  
Tommy chimed in, "Dr. Morton's been a thorn in the Major's side for a while. Most times, he ignores the Doc's ranting about anything and everything but this time Morton went too far. It was a matter of honor." He glanced over at Billy, he liked Sarah MacKenzie but she was odd, no doubt about it. As smart as she was, there were strange gaps about ordinary things. Like the fact that the Major would defend her honor as a matter of course. Or, for someone who could shoot as well as she did, he'd had to show her how to load a gun. Then there was the fact that aside from admitting she was born out West, she had little to say about herself. Whenever he tried to get her to talk about her past, they always wound up discussing him or Josiah Rabb or the weather, of all things. Half the time, he couldn't figure out how the conversation had gotten away from him like that. Something was eating at her, though. When she thought he was asleep or not paying attention, she'd get this look on her face that was enough to break his heart.  
  
Mac stared at the two men, once again feeling like this was some surreal Gone With The Wind drama she'd fallen into. "What did Morton do then?"  
  
"He stood there quivering in his boots and claimed he wouldn't fight, that it was a matter of principle," Billy seemed torn between disgust and amusement. "The Major finally told Morton he was relieved of duty and to consider himself under arrest." The young man leaned back with a grin, "Odds are the Doc'll be sent packing soon enough."  
  
Fitzgerald wagged a finger at him, "Don't you go supposin' nothin', Lieutenant. Doctors don't grow on trees." He turned and glared at a surprised Mac, "And you, young woman, this is gonna fan the fire, for sure. I don't want you going nowhere without someone escorting you."  
  
Mac bristled, "I can take care of myself, Sergeant. I'm not stupid and I don't need a bodyguard."   
  
Undaunted, Tommy stared at her, "Now I ain't callin' you stupid, Mac, but that don't mean I think you're acting all that smart, neither." He held up a hand when she started to speak, "I know you're handy with a pistol and your fists too, when it comes right down to it. Hell's Bells, the whole regiment knows it and that's the problem. That Ezra Caine, he might be lower than a snake's belly, but he ain't stupid neither. He won't be surprised again. You give him a chance and he'll take you up on it and I guarantee you won't see it coming. So stop letting your pride take the place of common sense. Anywhere you go from now on, it'll be with me, or Mott or Billy here, understand?"  
  
"Can I be added to the list?" Rabb's voice surprised them all, they hadn't heard him approach. He waved a hand as all three started to climb to their feet, "Don't get up." He walked over and settled himself on the log Mac was leaning against. The Major looked from Tommy to Mac, "Fitzgerald's right, Sarah. Caine and his cronies haven't done anything that will let me take official action but that doesn't mean I trust them." He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, looking at Billy and the Sergeant, "The main Army is moving again, north towards Winchester." He shot a glance at Mac, "Sheridan's on his way to the Shenandoah with a division. If I thought it would be any safer, I'd make arrangements for you to leave the Valley altogether."   
  
He'd come to accept what she'd told him as fact, even though it hadn't happened yet. It kept him awake nights. He was a professional soldier and proud of it but what Sarah said was coming filled him with shame. Being with Hunter was bad enough. Oh, he understood the military viewpoint and he'd seen his share of civilians unlucky enough to be caught between armies. What he didn't like was making deliberate war on the families of the soldiers he faced. It was cowardly and he couldn't justify it as so many of his brother officers were, by claiming that 'the damn Secesh had it coming for starting this war'.   
  
His opinion put him in the minority and on treacherous ground. One had to look no further than the railroading of General Fitz-John Porter to see how deeply politics were embedded in this war. No one was safe. Just a whiff of being a 'southern sympathizer' could see him cashiered and imprisoned. Lincoln, in his single-minded drive to hold the Union together, had trampled a good deal of the Constitution and the Bill of Rights underfoot. Rabb was well aware that he could find himself lost in the prison system for months, years, without ever coming to trial.   
  
Normally, he didn't let consequences interfere with his principles (the fact that he was still a Major while others less competent were Generals attested to that trait) but this was different. For one thing, Rabb knew his men liked and respected him. It was entirely possible that he could keep the coming depreciations from veering wildly out of control - at least within his sphere of influence. The other reason was sitting next to him. Whether she acknowledged it or not, Sarah was firmly under the mantle of his protection. She'd been right when she said she didn't fit into this time despite Fitzgerald's continuing, if unknowing, tutelage. If that protection was somehow sundered, she'd be the target of men like Morton and Caine. He couldn't risk it.  
  
Whatever ire Mac had been feeling vanished at the news of Sheridan's imminent arrival. She took an involuntary glance at the surrounding landscape. It was hard to believe that this lush and fertile valley would soon resemble the most devastated areas of Bosnia. As much as she didn't want to see that, leaving the Valley was out of the question. Somehow, some way, Mac was sure that her return to her own time was tied to the Shenandoah. Leaving might sever the link forever, she couldn't take the chance. She focused anxiously on Rabb, "I can't leave the Valley. You know that, don't you?"  
  
Fitzgerald and Billy exchanged confused glances. Mac and the Major seemed to have forgotten their presence, intent on each other. Tommy rubbed his jaw. That was an odd reaction from the Major and Mac. Instead of being surprised that Phil Sheridan was coming, they acted like they expected it and neither seemed happy. And their first consideration was whether or not Mac should remain in the Valley. Not stay with Rabb or stay with the Army but stay in the Valley... If he were a superstitious man, he'd be in a fair way to believing that Sarah MacKenzie was some sort of pooka and that the Major was under her spell. He'd never put much stock in that kind of tomfoolery but there were a surprising amount of men who did. He'd have to keep an ear out and tell Mott to do the same. It was this type of mischief that Ezra Caine could use to his advantage. 


	9. Part 9

Part Nine  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1530 Local  
  
Mac walked near the head of the column with Private Mott by her side. True to his word, Fitzgerald made sure that there was always someone with her. Currently, the Sergeant was ranging up and down the line of marching men. Neither Mac nor the Private spoke. There wasn't that much to say and the ever-present dust cloud caused by thousands of feet meant a mouthful of grit even if they were inclined to talk. Four weeks had passed since the blow-up with Morton and the news of Sheridan's arrival. A number of things had changed. For one, Josiah had received a promotion to Lt. Colonel and had been given command of the brigade that contained his old regiment. While it meant more work for him, it barely affected her at all. By now, she was a fixture and the new regiments were quickly brought up to speed by Josiah's old command.  
  
Two weeks ago, Sheridan had formally been placed in command. Surprisingly, since then, he'd done very little. Mac was somewhat at a loss, she wasn't an expert on the Civil War. Except for Jackson's Valley campaign and Sheridan's destruction of it, she really didn't remember all that much about the Shenandoah Valley. This inactivity didn't seem to gel with her perception of the fiery and combative Sheridan. Mostly inactive, Mac corrected herself, Josiah's brigade had retained its position as rearguard and as a consequence, found itself in almost daily skirmishes. Early was pugnacious as ever. He'd managed to force a minor engagement around Winchester. It did nothing more than cause more casualties for both sides. The men were holding their own but Sheridan kept falling back. If this continued, they'd find themselves holed up in Harper's Ferry.  
  
Mac trudged along on autopilot. The threat of Ezra Caine had never materialized but she didn't discount the possibility. Tommy still worried about it and he had been right on the money about Morton staying on. The doctor was cold and distantly polite whenever she was around - which was often. With Fitzgerald back on duty, she'd shifted her attention to the rear of the brigade and its noncombatants. At first, it was to make sure the hospital changes were implemented. Then she discovered that the Quartermaster officer was not merely dishonest, but stupid as well. Figuring that the military hadn't changed that much between her time and this, Mac went straight for the non-coms handling the supplies. There was no way to keep graft out of the system but with judicious strong-arming provided by Josiah and Fitzgerald, she convinced the sergeants that it was healthier to practice moderation. The Quartermaster Lieutenant was sent packing and government contractors found themselves under random but intense scrutiny.  
  
The first one caught trying to slip sick, skinny cattle in with the rest of the herd found himself in front of a coldly furious Col. Rabb. The businessman tried to bluster his way out only to have Mac calmly point out the clauses of his contract that he had violated. Thereupon, he became abusive. Things might have gotten completely out of hand if Mac hadn't stopped Josiah with a hand on his sleeve and an amused half-smile. She suggested that rather than throttling the man, that they serve him supper instead. Both men looked at her like she was crazy and then Rabb started to laugh. He called in the Provost-Marshal and then had Billy make the arrangements. By the time the man was sat down to his meal of diseased beef and hardtack, several hundred men had gathered round to enjoy the show. After that, the quality of supplies improved for the brigade and Mac had earned another large group of admirers. She'd also gained another set of enemies.  
  
Ironically, she learned that the men had taken to referring to her as 'Colonel Mac'. Apparently, it had partly come about because of her association with Josiah. The men were already aware that Tommy called her Mac. The other part, Billy had informed her with a smile, came from her habit of collaring the shirkers and stragglers. Since they weren't going to fight, she commandeered them for work in the hospital. It was generally acknowledged that, as such things were figured, she would make a decent officer. She knew how to bellow. When Josiah made Colonel, the men decided that he wasn't the only one deserving of a 'promotion'.   
  
Taking evening meals with Josiah was a habit now. Sometimes they ate alone and other times, he invited the staff. Mac enjoyed his company. He was charming, witty and kind. Slowly, he was drawing her into his life and she was finding that she didn't want to resist. In many ways, he was so much like Harm that she could close her eyes and believe she was back in Falls Church. She knew it wasn't right but she missed Harm so much. Mac heaved a sigh and scanned the surrounding countryside. She'd fallen into a routine and it frightened her. What the hell was she doing? It had never occurred to her that it might take so long to get back. Firmly, she pushed aside the thought that it might never happen. It wasn't time to think about that just yet.  
  
Her hand drifted up to finger Annabel's necklace. She'd found herself doing that more and more. It was becoming a talisman of sorts. A tangible link to her life before everything had been turned upside-down. She was convinced that the White Horse Tavern held the key somehow. The problem was that they were headed in the opposite direction. Josiah would never let her go back there on her own and after that brush with the bushwhackers, she wasn't sure she'd make it either.  
  
*******  
  
Mac stopped and listened to the growing roar of musketry. Nine more days had passed. Sheridan was moving towards Charles Town, West Virginia but he'd left a Corps at Berryville. Josiah's brigade was part of it. She'd been grateful at first, Sheridan seemed intent on leaving the Valley altogether and she still harbored a fear that she would be irrevocably lost in this time if she left the Shenandoah. Now she wasn't so sure. This was more than skirmishing, which meant that Josiah would be in the thick of it. It had shocked the hell out of her when she realized that Civil War officers led by example. It was SOP for officers to be out in front leading their men on or staying out in the open as they walked behind their lines. It was a point of honor to remain calm and unconcerned as the opposing side took potshots at you.  
  
That practice had led to one of their more serious arguments. Mac had told Josiah that it was all well and good to be personally courageous but to deliberately expose yourself to enemy fire was just plain asinine. He'd countered with the fact that the officers' behavior greatly influenced the men's. Soldiers whose officers remained safely hidden in the rear would either refuse to fight or flee at the first sign of trouble. Early in the war, he'd seen entire divisions disintegrate because the soldiers had lost confidence in their officers. It wasn't going to happen here. Mac had glared at him with her hands on her hips and asked him just how much influence a dead officer had on the men. He still hadn't budged from his contention that it was necessary and in the end, they had agreed to disagree. Neither had been particularly happy about it.  
  
Feeling herself getting angry all over again, Mac shook her head. Josiah, like Harm, was a man who stood by his principles, no matter the personal cost. It was one of the reasons she loved him. She stopped abruptly. Where had that come from? Tentatively, she thought it over. Was she once again substituting Josiah for Harm? With a start, she realized that it was Josiah who now came to mind more often. Harm was getting pushed into the background. Dammit, what was the matter with her? Frowning, Mac continued her rounds, causing Hanrahan and Garrett to look at her curiously. Corporal Garrett had joined her little cadre of 'protectors' about two weeks ago. Apparently, he'd gotten over her flattening him and had even gone so far as to ask her to show the move to him again. He'd been a little stiff at first, but then as he'd gotten used to her, he'd become more relaxed. Today was his day to shadow her. Hanrahan always followed her whenever she made an appearance at the hospital.  
  
Private Henry Hanrahan was one of her 'Lost Boys'. Eighteen years old, with a room temperature IQ, he'd been out of his league in the ranks. The sound of battle had terrified him and Mac had found him cowering far to the rear. After talking with him, Mac was pretty sure he would be marginal, at best, as a soldier. She convinced Josiah to assign him to the hospital detail. There he'd found his niche. He followed her instructions conscientiously and as he became more confident, his normally cheerful personality turned out to be an asset. He kept the men's spirits up and he proved to be an amazing repository of entertaining stories. Morton would have nothing to do with him but the newest surgeon, Dr. Silas Edwards, was kind and encouraging. Edwards, himself, was a breath of fresh air. Boston educated, he was a talented surgeon and far more congenial. More importantly, to her mind anyway, was the fact that Boston doctors had realized the importance of cleanliness. He was just as adamant about it as Mac was.  
  
And he outranked Morton. Josiah had placed him in charge almost immediately upon arrival. At first, he'd been somewhat stilted with her and what he considered to be the impropriety of it all. Billy had filled him in on the basics and the rest he'd gathered for himself by casually questioning the men. Later, when he engaged her in conversation, he discovered the same thing Fitzgerald had. Sarah MacKenzie had a lively, intelligent mind, wide-ranging interests, no fear of expressing her opinions and could, when the occasion demanded, be rather forceful. There were brief moments when he regretted being happily married. Not that he really had much of a chance, anyone with half an eye could see the attraction between Rabb and Sarah. He consoled himself with long letters to his wife, Abby, about the interesting circumstances that surrounded his new position.  
  
*******  
  
The battle was finally coming to an end. Wounded that had been flowing into the hospital area were now slowing to a trickle. Both Edwards and Morton, however, were still swamped in the operating theater. Earlier, Mac had made sure everything was in order and then stepped back to let the people do their work. Edwards had been educating the more competent nurses on the subject of triage. Mac helped out where she could. Although she had no medical knowledge, she understood the concept. Glancing up from what she was doing, Mac saw a soldier hurry over to Garrett and say something to him. As soon as he left, Garrett walked over to her, his face anxious, "Ma'am, there's a problem at one of the sutlers' tents. One of the boys is threatening to wreck the place."  
  
Mac frowned, of all the times to have to deal with something like this! The Provost Marshal would be busy containing the inevitable shirking. She knew about the price-gouging that went on but she thought she'd managed to curtail it to some degree. Damn greedy civilians, there was always one who thought he could get away with something. She ought to just let the men administer their own brand of justice. Sighing, she turned to Private Hanrahan, "Would you find Sgt. Fitzgerald and have him meet me at the sutlers' row?" She turned to an unhappy Garrett, "Let's go."  
  
The sutler that was having the problem was fairly obvious from the sullen clumps of men standing just outside his tent. They parted quietly to let Mac get through. She walked into the tent to find a soldier with his back to her holding the sutler, George Atkins, by his shirtfront. "That's enough, Private. Let the man go." A gutteral growl was her only answer as the private continued to hold onto the sutler. Mac stepped in closer, her voice taking on a no-nonsense ring, "I said, that's enough!"  
  
The soldier released Atkins and spun towards her so suddenly that she took an inadvertent step backwards and stumbled when she collided with Garrett. She hadn't realized he was so close behind her. The momentary distraction ended with the sharp prick of cold steel at her throat. Her surprise was compounded when Garrett effectively pinioned her arms behind her. Mac's eyes widened when she looked forward again and saw it was Ezra Caine who held the knifepoint to her throat. She opened her mouth and the knife jabbed painfully into her skin, breaking the surface.  
  
"Not a word, Colonel Mac, don't even breath heavy," Ezra grinned. He was going to enjoy this.  
  
"Ezra! We don't have time for that!" Garrett hissed, "Fitzgerald's coming, she sent one of those misfits for him."  
  
Caine swore softly, glaring at Garrett. Mac went still, he would have to pull the knife away before she could make a move. She knew she'd only get one chance. She could feel the thin trickle of blood trailing down her skin. Abruptly Caine yanked the knife away and drove his other fist into her midriff. As she doubled over, gasping for air, he spun the knife around and brought the hilt down across her head. Glancing over at the sutler, he snapped, "Toss me a couple of belts and get that trunk open. Hurry!" He caught them from Atkins and threw one at Garrett, "Get her feet." Caine slid his belt up over her arms and snugged it down tight just above her elbows. Grabbing a kerchief off the table, he gagged her and then he and Garrett picked up her limp form and dumped her in the trunk. Caine grabbed the sutler by the lapel, "We'll meet you tonight. Make it look good." He and Garrett slipped out the back of the tent.  
  
Less than five minutes later, Fitzgerald stomped in and saw Atkins angrily throwing merchandise into an open trunk. Moving closer to the irate sutler, he snapped, "Where's Colonel Mac?"  
  
Atkins paused, scowling, "I don't know. She marched in here, told me to get out by sundown. That's what I'm doing. ... Damn female," he muttered under his breath.  
  
Tommy rubbed his jaw, Mac had asked him to meet her at the sutlers' row. She should have been there. It'd taken him a few minutes to track down which sutler had been having the problem. A number of men had seen her go in, no one had remembered her coming out. He reached over and grabbed Atkins by the sleeve, "People saw her come in here, no one saw her go out. Where is she?"  
  
Atkins yanked his arm away, "How would I know? I'm not her keeper." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "Her and the corporal went out the back. They may have said something about the hospital."  
  
Fitzgerald swore softly to himself. Something was wrong, he could feel it. He went out the back of the tent and looked up and down the row. There was no one to be seen. Goddamn it! He glanced back into the tent and watched Atkins slam the lid on the one trunk and slide another out. Tommy shook his head and started for the hospital, at least Garrett was still with her. Maybe there was some crisis with her little troop of workers.  
  
When he got there, it was a scene of controlled chaos. Casualties were still coming in, both Union and Confederate. It took a good ten minutes before he could catch Morton between patients. He was more than a little peevish. Yes, he had seen her. She had headed to the battlefield to help look for more wounded. Would the Sergeant mind if he got back to work?  
  
Tommy turned away and headed towards the battlefield. It was possible that she'd gone there and he'd missed her again. In any case, before he went to Colonel Rabb, he needed to make sure he wasn't just jumping at shadows.  
  
*******  
  
Mac opened her eyes once more. She'd been drifting in and out for the last ninety minutes or so. They'd crammed her in some sort of box. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and her arms were numb from the shoulder down. No doubt what Caine intended, she thought grimly, assuming he was the one who'd tried to make her elbows touch behind her back. It was pitch black and uncomfortably hot. Not enough to kill her but dehydration could become a problem. She was already half-soaked with sweat. From the bouncing and jostling, she surmised that they had her on a wagon, probably that son of a bitch, Atkins'. It wasn't doing much for her headache.  
  
Goddammit, how could she have been so stupid? Tommy had been right again. Caine had been downright diabolical and she hadn't seen it coming. She hadn't expected Garrett to betray her. It was her fault, she'd treated things like she would in her own time. Smugly confident because of her 'rank' and past successes, she'd relaxed her guard and this was the result. Mac tried shifting her shoulders and blinked back a groan. Whenever they finally untied her, it was going to hurt like hell. She closed her eyes again, quit whining and think!   
  
They had to be taking her away from the Union Army. That only made sense. There was no way they could afford to keep her in its vicinity. Josiah would turn everything upside down and inside out in his search for her. Which meant she was heading for the Confederate lines or, at least, into their territory. It was an odd fact that neither side would detain noncombatants from their opponents. Sutlers, chaplains, doctors and civilians were immediately released. Atkins would not be stopped, on the contrary, he'd be welcomed in Southern camps. Not that he could afford to go there either, not with a woman tied up in his wagon. But, once inside the Southern picket lines, he'd be safe from Josiah.  
  
Caine and his cohorts couldn't afford to remain in the Union Army either, so they were probably already in the act of deserting. No doubt, they'd planned for some sort of rendezvous. Hopefully, with Atkins' headstart, that would give her a small window of opportunity - provided the son of a bitch let her out of the trunk. It was probably a safe bet that she had at least two more hours in here. They'd want that kind of a safety margin. She just had to assume that they would stay in the Valley and not try to cross the mountains. One thing for sure, if she could, she needed to escape before Ezra Caine appeared. The man scared the living hell out of her. 


	10. Part 10

Part 10  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1810 Local  
  
Mac gritted her teeth and tried moving her shoulders again. Fiery pain lanced across them, making her squeeze her eyes shut. Dammit, her elbows were pulled back so far, it felt like her shoulders were coming out of the sockets. Holding her breath until the pain subsided, she went back to flexing her hands, trying to restore feeling. That hurt like hell, too, but compared to her shoulders, it was manageable. After a few minutes, she took a deep breath and let herself go limp as she exhaled. The only way to get out of this was to relax enough to bring her elbows even closer together. Caine had picked a particularly painful way to restrain her but he'd done it with a simple loop. If she could get her elbows closer together - without dislocating her shoulders - it might be possible to slide the loop down.  
  
Resolutely, she continued to take calming breaths. This would be a helluva lot easier if she could just relax on command. It was a slow process, suppressing her anxiety and fear. Once, she'd been so close and then Atkins had bounced through what must have been the Grand Canyon of potholes. She'd been flung from one side of the trunk to the other, banging her head and body painfully into the trunk walls. It had taken her thirty-four minutes to get back to that relaxed state. Carefully, she tried easing her elbows together and felt a twinge across her shoulder blades. She stopped there and took another breath, willing herself to relax. Once more, she eased her elbows together and was rewarded with a slackening of the restraint.  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1940 Local  
  
Atkins pulled off the road and into a small clearing. The sun was setting and he wanted to make camp before it got completely dark. As near as he could figure it, he was close to two hours inside Rebel lines. He shook his head as he unharnessed his team, Ezra had been right. It had been ridiculously easy. Now all he had to do was wait for Caine and Garrett, collect his money and get out before first light. He didn't want to be anywhere near when they started having their 'fun' with the woman. Finishing with the horses, he pulled out his pocket watch and squinted at it in the fast dying light. He glanced at the wagon. It had been at least four hours that she'd been crammed in that little trunk. She probably wouldn't mind a little fresh air and he could think of a few ways to help loosen her muscles. Trussed up like that in the dark had to have taken some of the edge off her arrogance. She might even be amendable to a few 'suggestions' to keep from being put back in.  
  
He smiled to himself, he'd be doing her a favor. A last little bit of pleasure to hang on to when Ezra started in on her. Caine was going to kill her but not before she begged to die. Moving to the back of the wagon, he pulled down a kerosene lantern and lit it. Holding it high, he climbed in and made his way towards the front. Finding the trunk, he put the light down and fumbled in his pocket for the key. Smiling in anticipation, he unlocked it and lifted the lid.  
  
One hundred and twenty pounds of irate Marine slammed into him, knocking him backwards. Mac kept her feet moving, not wanting Atkins to guess how shaky she was. She had to finish this quickly or he was going to finish her. They slammed into the wall of the wagon, causing it to tilt and throw them both off-balance. Bouncing into some crates, they tumbled to the floor of the wagon. Atkins managed to twist around so that he landed on top, making her take the brunt of his weight. He heard her gasp and then she went slack underneath him. He smiled grimly in triumph as he pushed himself upright, So she wanted it rough? He'd be happy to oblige.  
  
It was then that he noticed the crackling. Turning back, his eyes widened. The lantern must have been broken in the struggle, the front of the wagon was quickly becoming engulfed in flames. Oh god! His merchandise! Dammit! This was the woman's fault! He turned back towards her and just barely caught a glimpse of a fist before it slammed into his jaw. His head snapped back and he collapsed like a poleaxed steer.  
  
Mac groaned as Atkins' full weight landed on her again. The passageway they'd landed in was narrow and didn't give much room for maneuvering. Doggedly, she began squirming out from underneath the sutler. She needed to get clear and get him tied up before he came to. The confinement had taken more out of her than she supposed. She didn't know what had distracted him but she knew she wouldn't get that kind of break again. Halfway out from underneath Atkins, Mac suddenly realized the wagon was on fire. Frantically, she redoubled her efforts to get clear, ignoring the protests from her abused muscles. By the time she kicked her legs free, the smoke had grown thicker. Coughing, she flipped over to her hands and knees. Grabbing a handful of jacket, she started hauling the sutler out of the wagon.  
  
It was slow and painful going. Her arms felt leaden and her back and legs were screaming from the effort. She literally fell off the tailgate of the wagon and let her body weight pull Atkins off as well. They both landed with a thump. As much as she wanted to just lie there and suck in clean air, they were still too close to the burning wagon. Struggling up, she grabbed an arm and dragged Atkins out of the way. Once she figured they were clear, she dropped his arm and sat down with a thump. Pulling her knees up, she leaned forward and gave in to a fit of coughing. She'd breathed a lot more smoke than was probably good for her.  
  
After the coughing subsided, she sat there a little longer with her head down, regrouping for the next effort. She needed to tie Atkins up but anything she might have used had just gone up in flames. The audible click of a pistol being cocked brought her head up. She turned to see Atkins pushing himself up on one elbow while the other hand held a large and lethal-looking derringer pointed at her. Mac stared at him for a long moment and then said hoarsely, "You're welcome, you ungrateful son of a bitch."  
  
Ignoring him, she put her head back down and closed her eyes, the feeling of defeat overwhelming even the anger. She'd had her chance and blown it, it was going to cost her her life. Vaguely, she wondered how that would work. What happened when you died one hundred and three years before you were born? Were you born anyway? Did it just not happen? Would there be no Sarah MacKenzie in 2003? Or did this become some sort of giant cosmic feedback loop that she would be forced to live, and die, through again and again? She brought up her hands to massage her temples. If her head wasn't already pounding, thinking about this would have given her a helluva headache.  
  
Caine would be here soon. The thought was enough to make her nauseous. She did have one option and that was to force Atkins to kill her before that bastard arrived. She'd be taking a chance, though. She would have to surprise the sutler and hope that he was a good, or bad, enough shot to kill her immediately. If he merely wounded her, the upcoming ordeal would be that much more hellish. Mac kept her hands pressed to the sides of her head. She kept waiting for the dizziness and nausea to subside and they weren't. Why should they, she thought to herself wryly. Dehydration, smoke inhalation and abject terror were a pretty potent combination. She should be surprised she wasn't curled in the fetal position.  
  
"Why?"   
  
Mac felt Atkins' presence beside her. She pried an eye open and squinted up at him. It was fully dark and the fire glow gave his face a demonic cast. She took a breath and waited a moment to see if the coughing would start again, "Because I wouldn't wish dying by fire on my worst enemy." She looked back down at the ground. She was beginning to feel curiously detached. Apparently, her mind was deciding on its own defense. Hope springs eternal, she thought bitterly, as if survival was even an option.  
  
"I don't have a choice. I have to give you to Caine. He'll kill me otherwise."  
  
Mac didn't bother answering. She couldn't care less how he justified this to himself. She wished he would shut up so she could continue her mental retreat. Mac was startled back to the here and now when he grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to her feet. She found herself clinging to him to keep upright. He'd just made the dizziness a lot worse. He was saying something to her in an urgent tone and she forced herself to concentrate.  
  
"Go, get out of here," Atkins repeated, looking at her anxiously. "I'll tell Caine you died in the fire. That I left a lantern in the wagon and it must have tipped over while I was tending the horses. I couldn't get you out."   
  
"That's a real good story."  
  
Atkins spun around, keeping Mac behind him. Ezra Caine and Garrett walked out of the darkness and into the light cast by the burning wagon. Caine smiled and nudged Garrett, "Wasn't that a good story?" Garrett nodded wordlessly, never taking his eyes off the sutler. Ezra continued softly, "I might've even believed it and wouldn't that'a been a shame? Ain't you worried 'bout your soul, Atkins? Lyin' like that could keep you outta Heaven." He took a step closer, "Cos I woulda found out, y' know, and then I'd a killed you. Now I'll settle for hurtin' you a mite. Jist a lil' lesson to keep you on the straight 'n narrow." He glanced towards Garrett and laughed, "Take it like a man an I'll let you watch when we start havin' fun with Colonel Mac. Hell, I might even let you play."  
  
Atkins gave an inarticulate growl and brought the derringer up. Pointing it at Caine, he squeezed the trigger. Garrett was even faster. He had his own pistol out and fired just before Atkins did. The sutler's shot sailed harmlessly overhead. Caine spun back, pulling his pistol out as well. He stared in amazement as Atkins fell and Mac doubled over and collapsed with a gutteral scream. He looked back at Garrett, "Lord Amighty, you got two with one shot!"  
  
Garrett looked at him wide-eyed, "I'm sorry, Ezra, I wasn't trying for her."  
  
"Damn," Caine grunted as he reholstered the revolver and then waved a hand, "Unlucky was all." He walked over and looked down at Atkins. The sutler was obviously dead. He moved over to Mac who was curled tight, eyes shut, her breath coming in short, painful gasps. He put his boot on her shoulder and shoved her over. He took in the bloodstained hands clasped tightly around her middle. Caine squatted down on his heels, next to her, "Gut shot, eh, Colonel Mac?" He reached out and slapped her lightly, "Open your eyes when I'm talkin' to you." When she didn't respond, he hit her a little harder. Mac slowly opened her eyes and squinted at him painfully. He smiled at her, "Hurts don't it? Yep, gut shot's a hard way to go. Takes a while to die, days sometimes, I've heard."   
  
Caine pulled out his revolver and gently pushed the barrel against her forehead, "I've heard men beg their friends to put them out of their misery. I suppose I could do you a favor. You want me t'do you a favor?" She stared at him silently. He paused and made a show of thinking it over. Then he stood up, "No, I believe I'm going to enjoy thinkin' of you like this." He looked up at the sky, "Sun'll be fierce tomorrow, imagine you'll be a mite thirsty," He moved over and nudged Atkins' body, looking back to make sure she was watching, "Buzzards be circling in, in the mornin'. They'll be eating good tomorrow. You might wanta keep movin, sometimes they don't like to wait. A'course, that's supposin' a dog pack don't find you tonight. They can get pretty mean."  
  
Chuckling, he turned to Garrett, "Go get the horses. We'll find us another camp. I don't wanta listen to whimperin' all night." Folding his arms, he stood and watched Mac while he waited for Garrett. When the Corporal returned, he walked back over to her and leaned down, "One more thing." He grabbed her by the collar and yanked her halfway off the ground. Mac barely had time to groan before his fist connected with the side of her jaw. Caine released his hold and dropped her in an unconscious heap. He stood for a moment, rubbing his own jaw, "I owed you that one." Returning to Garrett, he mounted and the two men rode back into the dark.  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 0530 Local  
  
Mac felt something cool and moist touch her forehead and then slide around to the side of her face. She flinched when it touched her still-tender jaw. A deep, soothing baritone said something but she couldn't quite make out the words. The voice was familiar though... where had she... ? She forced her eyes open and took in the dark, kindly countenance above her, "Chaplain Turner? Oh dear god, am I home?!" Her voice came out in a rasping whisper. She tried to raise herself up but the darkness claimed her once more.  
  
Thomas looked from the unconscious woman to Deacon Turner in surprise, "You know her?"  
  
Turner shook his head slowly, "I've never seen this woman before." He looked around the clearing, "We can't leave her here. Let's put her in the wagon and then bury that poor soul."  
  
Thomas stood up in alarm, "We cain't do that! She's white! Let her own folks find her!"  
  
Turner sighed and repeated, "We can't leave her here. Go get a blanket from the wagon, we'll carry her in that."   
  
"Deacon, no! You know what'll happen if some white trash finds us with her. I doan wanna be whipped fo somethin' I didn't do!"  
  
"They won't find her." Deacon Turner kept his voice calm and reasonable. Thomas was a good man and a skilled carpenter but he wasn't all that smart. He belonged to the Simpson family down around Harrisonburg. They'd hired him out last month to the Fishers. Turner had offered to give him a ride back to the Simpsons so he could collect his weekly wages. Thomas had been intending to buy his freedom but with the Yankees closing in, it was no longer necessary. Now he was building a nice little nest egg and he was understandably nervous about surviving to enjoy his coming freedom.  
  
Thomas remained stubborn, "It's not you they's gonna whip, Deacon! They know you's too old to be messin' with some white woman."  
  
Turner raised an eyebrow and stared at the younger man. Thomas had the grace to look somewhat abashed, "I didn't mean I thought so. I was talkin' bout them."  
  
Deacon Turner pointed towards the wagon, "Go. The sooner we get done here, the sooner we can be on our way. We'll drop her off with Miss Avis."   
  
Thomas' eyes widened, "Miss Avis? But she's a ... "  
  
Turner cut him off with a glare, "She's a fine Christian woman. She'll know what to do. Now go."  
  
He watched as Thomas reluctantly went to the wagon and then looked back down. "Who are you and how did you know my name?" he mused softly. He put a hand out and gently fingered the necklace she was wearing, "And how did you come to have that?" 


	11. Part 11

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting, I was out of town again with no internet access.  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 0600 Local  
  
Tommy stopped for a moment to contemplate his approach. Josiah Rabb had been alternating between frantic and furious. Mac had vanished. So had Ezra Caine and Daniel Garrett. It was Garrett's disappearance that had really shaken them. Fitzgerald would have sworn on a stack of bibles that Garrett hated Ezra Caine and would have never helped in this conspiracy... and it had been a conspiracy. At first, Dr. Morton had acted outraged that he was suspected, insisting that he'd been so busy, he really wasn't sure when he'd seen Mac and that he had just assumed she'd gone to the battlefield. A surprisingly angry Private Hanrahan put an end to that story, coming forward to say that he'd seen Caine and Morton together several times in the last few days.  
  
The bluster went right out of Morton, especially after a seething Col. Rabb had ordered him to be bucked and gagged. The good doctor apparently had never envisioned being treated that way, the reality had been a shock. He quickly confessed to lying about seeing Mac and about her going to look for wounded. However, he insisted that that was all he'd been supposed to do and he had no idea what their plan had been. That put the end of the trail at George Atkins' wagon.  
  
Tommy was still kicking himself. How could he have been so stupid! He had automatically assumed that Mac was safe because Garrett was with her. They'd let George Atkins roll right out of camp without a second look. Precious hours had been lost while they were on Morton's wild goose chase. For that alone, Fitzgerald was quite willing to shoot the doctor. By the time they had sent out mounted patrols, Atkins had disappeared behind the Rebel lines. Garrett and Caine had apparently deserted shortly afterward. They'd been bold as brass about it. Corporal Garrett had gone to the stabling area and ordered Mac's horse saddled as well as a mount for himself. No one had questioned him and he'd ridden off leading the chestnut. That was the last anyone remembered seeing him.  
  
Tommy took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Standing in front of Rabb's tent, he barked, "Sergeant Fitzgerald reporting, sir!" When he didn't hear a reply, he cautiously put his head in, "Colonel?"  
  
"Come in, Tommy," Rabb was sprawled in a chair in front of his desk. He looked up when the Sergeant entered. "You haven't found anything," he said in a flat tone. He didn't look like he'd slept at all.  
  
Fitzgerald shook his head, "Atkins is in Southern territory, no sign of Garrett or Caine." He hesitated a moment, "Have you heard anything, sir?"  
  
Josiah stared at him for a moment before dropping his gaze to the tabletop, "I talked to the Provost-Marshal."  
  
Tommy sucked in a breath. He'd been to the Provost-Marshal as soon as he'd found that Caine was missing. After what he'd found out, he was hoping the Colonel wouldn't think of going there. There was nothing to be done about it now and he didn't want Josiah dwelling on what he'd learn.  
  
"It seems Private Caine was no longer welcome with the 'working' ladies. He was a little too rough even for their taste." Josiah slammed a hand down on the table, making Fitzgerald jump, "Why the hell wasn't Caine in the stockade before this?!" He rubbed his eyes and then stared at the ground, "This is my fault. I let the Provost-Marshal do what he thought best, rather than looking into such things myself. If I had checked even once a month, I'd have realized what kind of monster Caine is and done something about it. Now he's got Sarah." The anguish in his voice was plain to hear. The two men were silent for a moment and then Rabb stared at Tommy with cold eyes, "I will find Ezra Caine and then I will kill him."  
  
"Yes sir," There was really nothing else to say. Fitzgerald knew Josiah teetering on the edge of resigning his commission and he didn't want to push in the wrong direction.  
  
Billy Douglas put his head in the tent, "Colonel? I've just received an answer to the message you sent last night." He risked a quick glance at Tommy who gave a slight shrug.  
  
Josiah surged to his feet, "Well? What is it, Lieutenant?"  
  
The Lieutenant came all the way inside and came to attention, "Sir, Colonel James will meet with you between the picket lines within the hour. I had your orderly saddle your horse." Rabb strode past him and out of the tent without another word. Billy gave Fitzgerald an apologetic look and then hurried after the Colonel.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Josiah cleared his picket line and continued on. Douglas dutifully followed behind. Two hundred yards down the road, Rabb stopped his horse and waited. Two horsemen appeared from the other side and rode slowly towards him. As they got closer, Josiah dismounted. Billy followed suit.  
  
The two Confederate officers rode up and then dismounted as well. A short, barrel-chested man, Colonel Hamilton James looked at Rabb, "Josiah."   
  
"Ham." Rabb nodded and then turned towards Billy, "My aide, Lt. William Douglas."  
  
James nodded in return, "How do you do, sir?" He gestured to the other officer, "Lt. Caleb Green."   
  
"Lieutenant." There was a brief, awkward silence and then Rabb cleared his throat, "I need your help."  
  
James gave him a cool look, "I find that hard to believe. You people don't seem to have much trouble taking whatever you want."  
  
"This is personal, Ham," Rabb's shoulders slumped a little as he looked at the ground.   
  
The Colonel stared at Josiah for a long moment and then gestured for the two Lieutenants to stay put. He grabbed Rabb by the elbow and led him off a short way, "What's going on, Josiah?"  
  
Rabb took a deep breath, "A woman, Sarah MacKenzie, was abducted from my camp last night by a sutler, George Atkins. My patrols tell me he's inside your lines."  
  
The look Ham gave him was incredulous, "You asked to meet me because some fast trick was taken from your camp? For godsakes, Josiah, I thought this was important. How do you know she didn't go willingly? You know how these women are." He took a step back in surprise at the fury in Rabb's eyes.  
"I'll thank you not to refer to her in that manner again," Josiah growled. He calmed himself with an effort, "Two men, Ezra Caine and Daniel Garrett have deserted also and we think they're inside your lines as well. You don't want them in your territory, Ham. Caine's got a mean, sadistic streak to him."  
  
Colonel James snorted, "That would describe a number of your officers, starting with General Hunter." He paused, eyeing Rabb, "What do you want me to do, Josiah? You know I can't spare the men to hunt these two. Hell's fire, the damn mountains are filled with deserters and ruffians from both sides. They disappear like will-o-the-wisps whenever we try to pin them down."  
  
"Atkins is a businessman, he needs to sell his merchandise. If he turns up in your camp, I would ask that you send him back to me. As for Caine and Garrett, I'd prefer that you shoot the sons of bitches." Rabb stared at the ground. "Caine was behind Sarah's kidnapping. If you find him and she's not there, I'll need that miserable bastard alive. I need to find her, one way or the other." He left unspoken the thought that had been killing him since they realized what had happened, it would be infinitely more merciful if Sarah were already dead.  
  
Hamilton James looked at the man he still considered a friend, despite the fact they were on opposite sides. He'd heard through the grapevine of Cassandra and Michael Rabb's death two years ago. This MacKenzie woman must be special if she could get Rabb past the loss of his wife and son. It was obvious that Josiah cared for her. That reminded him... he put a hand on Rabb's shoulder, "I was so sorry to hear about Cassie and little Michael, Josiah. I wish I could have attended the funeral to pay my respects."   
  
Josiah looked over at him, "Thank you, Ham. I know you would've have been there if you could." He took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, "Please do what you can to find Sarah MacKenzie. It means a lot to me."  
  
"You know I'll do what I can. What does she look like?"  
  
"She's a beautiful woman, Ham. Brown hair, brown eyes, slender, medium height, feisty as hell. She speaks her mind. I think Cassie would have liked her." Josiah chuckled, "They both have the same temper."  
  
"Dear Lord," Ham smiled, Cassie was a wonderful woman but her temper had been fearsome. Josiah had been one of the few men that could defuse it quickly.  
  
"Lt. Douglas can give you a description of Caine and Garrett." Rabb paused for a moment in thought. "Ham... "  
  
The change in tone alerted Hamilton, "What else, Josiah?"  
  
"Do you still have family here in the Valley?"   
  
Ham nodded cautiously, "Why?"  
  
"Get them out, Ham," Josiah said quietly. "Have them take as much as they can, but get them out quickly. Sheridan's got orders to destroy this Valley and he's going to do it. I can't stop it."  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 0615 Local  
  
Mac slowly opened her eyes again. Where was she and, more importantly, who was here? Cautiously, she turned her head to the side. She was in an open wagon of some sort, unlike the kind Atkins drove. Someone had gone to the trouble of rigging a shade for her out of a blanket. That seemed like a hopeful sign although it did block her view of what was going on. While she knew from first-hand experience that life and the Universe were seldom fair, maybe something good was going to happen to offset what she'd just been through.  
  
Of course, she'd never expected to make it this far. Never in a million years would she have guessed that Atkins would save her from Caine. And he had, at the expense of his own life. At first, however, she wasn't sure she'd survive the effort. Mac slowly brought her hand up to her midsection and flinched. It still hurt like hell. If... when... she saw Tommy again, she'd tell him he'd been right. Getting hit by a spent bullet did hurt worse than actually being wounded.   
  
She closed her eyes briefly as she moved her hand up to check for the necklace. Without a doubt, her guardian angel was getting some kind of a workout. All things considered, she wouldn't be surprised if she rated an entire squad by now. She'd been standing so close to Atkins that she'd been spattered with his blood as well as getting hit by what was left of the bullet. It had been that combination that had fooled Ezra Caine. He believed it was her blood and that she was dying, slowly and painfully. For those agonizing first few minutes, she would have had to agree. However, it had kept him from exacting his revenge. Mac's hand brushed her jaw and she winced. Well, kept him from exacting most of his revenge.  
  
Mac had regained consciousness to find herself alone in the clearing, not far from the sutler's remains. It was a new moon and the night had been pitch black. The only light came from the glow of the embers from the wagon. Moving hadn't been an option for a good while. She hadn't realized how much work her abdominal muscles did until she tried to move without using them. It had made a long night seem even longer. While she was pretty sure Caine's comment about the dog packs had been to twist the proverbial knife a little deeper, she didn't want to chance it either. Not that she could have done anything other than wish them bon appetit. She couldn't even raise her head without becoming dizzy. But attempting to move away from Atkins' body and keep some sort of lookout gave her a goal, something on which to focus.  
  
Eventually, she'd managed to crawl a few feet away. That minor triumph had cost her. Shortly before dawn, she'd collapsed in an exhausted sleep. That had led to an odd but pleasant snippet of a dream. She dreamed that she'd made it home, but it was Sturgis' father who had found her first, not Harm. She gave a careful, shallow sigh. No doubt her subconscious had decided to play Jimminy Cricket and make her feel guilty about Josiah Rabb. She'd only seriously kissed the man once but that had been enough to convince her that doing it again would be a dangerous thing. Apparently, Harm's ability to curl her toes was more hereditary than learned.   
  
Lately, especially when Josiah was around, she found herself clutching at Harm's memory almost as much as she did with Annabel's necklace. Cracks were beginning to appear in her determination to get home. Six long weeks had passed since she woke up in the wrong century and, like it or not, she was beginning to adjust. It was the paradoxes that were driving her crazy. She would look at Josiah Rabb and think, if she was stuck here, that a future with him wouldn't be such a bad thing. She could see that he was in love with her and, if she were honest, she was beginning to return the feelings. It hadn't been a hard thing to do, Josiah shared many of the traits that she loved about Harm. Then she would realize that that could conceivably make her Harm's great-great-great grandmother. On the other hand, for all she knew, she already was his ancestor. Mac let go of the necklace and rubbed her forehead. This wasn't the time or place to revisit that conundrum.  
  
The sound of approaching voices brought her attention back to the here and now. Mac tensed and waited. A middle-aged black man stepped around the side of the wagon with the blanket. When he glanced at her, his eyes widened in surprise and he whipped his hat off his head. "'Scuse me, ma'am," he said as he backed away. Before she could say anything, he turned and fled. She could hear him calling anxiously, "Deacon! Come here, she's awake!"  
  
Next, it was Mac's turn to be shocked, "Chaplain Turner!"  
  
The older man, who had just stepped into view, looked at her curiously, "No ma'am, I'm Deacon Turner."  
  
Mac closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to feel too disappointed. For an instant, she'd had wild hopes that it was Chaplain Turner and he'd found some way to get her back to her own time.  
  
"Ma'am? Can I get you some water?" When Mac nodded, he disappeared for a minute and then came back with a bucket and dipper. He climbed into the wagon and knelt down beside her, "Can you set yourself up, ma'am?" She hesitated and then shook her head with a grimace. "Just a minute, ma'am." He repositioned himself and then raised her to a sitting position. Mac gritted her teeth and said nothing. Taking the dipper in both hands, she drank while he continued to brace her.   
  
"Not too much at one time, ma'am. You'll make yourself sick," he cautioned in that familiar, deep baritone.  
  
Mac lowered the dipper and looked at him. "Sarah," she said and offered her hand, "My name is Sarah MacKenzie and I'd like to thank you, Mr. Turner, for taking care of me."  
  
Deacon looked at her and then her hand before tentatively shaking it, "It's just Deacon or Turner, Miss Sarah and I haven't done all that much." He lowered her back down and then managed to look somewhat embarrassed. He gestured towards her midsection, "I... ummm, I did look... ma'am, at first I thought you'd been shot, so I was trying to see how bad... "  
  
She smiled at him, "That was perfectly understandable, Mr. Turner. I was standing behind Atkins when they shot him and got hit by the same bullet. They thought I was dying so they didn't bother shooting me again." She glanced down at herself, "I haven't looked yet. I imagine it's a nasty looking bruise."  
  
"That man wasn't your husband?" Turner was feeling somewhat bemused. What kind of woman had they run across?  
  
Mac looked at him for a moment, frowning slightly. Oh, what the hell, Caine was long gone and he thought she was dead. "That man kidnapped me and then had a change of heart. When he tried to keep his partners from taking me, they shot him."  
  
"Kidnapped?" Turner's alarm was evident. "Your people won't think it was us, will they? They'll listen to you?" What had he gotten he and Thomas into? He knew good and well that some white folk might just hang them anyway, on general principles. Thomas would be panic-stricken when he heard this.  
  
"I don't think anyone is going to be able to look for me," Mac said slowly. "The other two men were deserters from the Union Army. We're inside the Southern lines, aren't we?"  
  
Turner nodded, "Yes ma'am, we're not far from Strasburg."  
  
"I don't suppose you were heading north, were you?" They were further south than she thought, Atkins must have pushed his team hard. Probably because he knew if Josiah caught him, he'd be dead. How ironic.  
  
"No ma'am, I'm taking Thomas back home to the Simpsons." He noticed her start with surprise, putting her hand up on the necklace. "You know the Simpsons, Miss Sarah?"  
  
"Yes... no... I'm not sure... , " Mac took a deep breath. "Miss Annabel Simpson gave me this necklace."  
  
Now Turner looked confused, "There's no Annabel in this Simpson family." He could have sworn he recognized that necklace. As far as he knew, there was only one.  
  
Mac sighed, "Must be a different Simpson family then." Damn, for some reason she'd been sure there was an Annabel in this time... 


	12. Part 12

Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1020 Local  
  
The wagon stopping woke Mac from a light sleep. Deacon had told her of his plan to take her to a Miss Avis. Since it was fairly obvious that they had no intention of trying to pass from Southern to Northern lines, she had readily agreed. Mac was just glad that Deacon Turner had prevailed. Thomas wanted to leave her by the side of the road. He didn't have anything against her personally. He didn't want to get caught in a situation that could get him killed.   
  
They had rigged some canvas as a sort of tent. It helped keep the sun and some of the dust off of her and it hid her from view. It would be a lot less complicated if no one realized it was a white woman in the wagon of two black men. Especially one that sported a spectacular bruise on the side of her jaw. They had been traveling slowly but steadily for the last three hours and Mac had been asleep for most of it. Gradually, she became aware that Deacon was calling her name softly, "Miss Sarah? You awake?" Something in his voice told her to be quiet as well.  
  
She turned her head towards the front of the wagon, pleased that she was no longer feeling dizzy, "I'm awake, Deacon, is something wrong?"  
  
"Maybe, maybe not. Couple of riders coming down the road. Hopefully, they'll go right past. You keep quiet and let me handle this, hear? ... that goes for you, too, Thomas."  
  
Mac felt the wagon shift and creak as Turner got down. "Thomas? What's Deacon doing?" she asked in a soft tone.  
  
"Checkin' harness. Hush up now, they's almos here."   
  
Gradually, Mac heard the sound of approaching horses. They were slowing down. Damn!  
  
"You! Boy!"  
  
"Yes Boss?"  
  
"What're you two doing out this way? You got a pass? Be quick about it, I ain't got all day." There was a brief silence while Mac strained to hear. The man's voice came again, "Freed man, are you? Why ain't you with your Yankee friends?"  
  
"They ain't mah friends, Boss," Deacon's voice answered, "Noath's too cold fo dese ol' bones."  
  
A different voice sounded. It was closer, making Mac start a little in surprise, "What 'bout you, boy?" She could hear the horse's hooves shifting closer to the back of the wagon.  
  
Thomas started to stutter and Deacon's voice cut in again, "Thas jus' Thomas, Boss. He belong tuh Miz Simpson down Harrisonburg way. Give him yo pass, Thomas." Mac beginning to feel irritated, who the hell were these two?  
  
"What's he doin' up here with you?" The first voice spoke again, sounding suspicious. He was moving closer to the wagon as well. "What're y'all hidin' in that there wagon?" Mac froze.   
  
"We ain't hidin nuthin', Boss," Deacon managed to sound indignant and respectful at the same time, "Miz Simpson's youngest nearly got hisself kilt, fightin fo Gineral Early. Ol' Thomas here sent word an Miz Simpson hired me tuh fetch 'em back. Ah git two silver dollas fo bringin' 'em home safe."   
  
Mac's eyes widened and she hurriedly looked around the wagon. Her blood-spattered uniform coat was off and tucked in a corner, leaving her in shirtsleeves. There was no way anyone was going to mistake her for a man. She grabbed the coat and wadded it up, replacing the rolled-up blanket as a pillow. Shaking out the blanket, she arranged it so it looked like she'd kicked it partially off, keeping it wadded up around her torso. The light blue pants she was wearing were more of a nondescript gray from all the dust and dirt. Finally, she put her head down and squeezed her eyes shut, turning so that the bruised and somewhat swollen jaw was the first thing they'd see. She could still hear Deacon going on about poor old Miz Simpson and what a kind woman she was and how hard it'd be to lose her youngest son.  
  
Then came the sound of the canvas being pulled aside. It was all Mac could do to keep her eyes closed and her breathing even. Deacon had been silent for a few moments and then started talking again, although his voice was down to a whisper, "Only woke up the one time, dint have no idea what was goin' on. Ah think he done rattled his brain summat fierce... po' Miz Simpson, dis'll like tuh break 'er heart..."  
  
"All right, all right, get on with you then," the first voice ordered. "Don't y'all stop until you get to the Simpsons, hear? I don't want to find y'all on the road again."  
  
"No Suh! We woan stop til we's on Miz Simpson's porchstep," Deacon Turner sounded positively cheerful. The sound of hooves receded and then the wagon jolted into motion. Mac stayed where she was, figuring Deacon would tell her when it was safe. It was a good five minutes before she heard him say, "Miss Sarah?"  
  
"Are they gone, Deacon?" Mac tried to keep the strain out of her voice. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she was beginning to realize there'd been some injudicious moves on her part. Her sore abdominal muscles had been quiescent for a while, now they were protesting almost every bump and jolt. She gritted her teeth. There was nothing to do but endure it. Eventually, it would get easier and she just had to last until then.  
  
"Yes'm," Mac could hear the hesitation in his voice that said he'd noticed that she sounded different. There was a slight pause, "Miss Sarah, are you feeling all right?"  
  
"Just a little sore, it won't last," she closed her eyes, trying not to groan when the wagon bounced through another pothole. She needed to think of other things, take her mind off the aches and pains. Josiah must be beside himself. Tommy, she knew, would be blaming himself for trusting Garrett. Maybe when they reached this Miss Avis, there'd be some way to get a message to Josiah. She needed to get word to them that she was relatively safe and alive. Neither man was stupid, they had to know that Ezra Caine was behind the abduction. By now they were probably torturing themselves about her fate at Caine's hands.  
  
The wagon stopped again and Mac's eyes flew open. Oh God, now what?! Had those two jackasses come back? Well, at least this time, she could play wounded with a little more realism. She felt like hell. Where were Deacon and Thomas? She hadn't heard either one yet. The wagon dipped and bounced as someone climbed onto the tailgate. Mac tensed and then relaxed as Deacon came in. She looked at him curiously and he smiled reassuringly at her. Raising his voice, he called for Thomas to get started again and then settled himself next to her. "Thought you might like some company for a spell, Miss Sarah," he gave her another smile.  
  
"Thanks," Mac smiled in return and then grimaced when the wagon bounced. Letting out a breath, she looked over at Deacon, "If you could smooth the road out, it would help."  
  
"If I could, I would," Deacon chuckled, "With everything that's going on, keeping the road up isn't high on the list of things to be done."   
  
Mac nodded her agreement and then held her breath as the wagon bounced some more. She needed to focus on something else and looked over at Deacon, "May I ask you something?"  
  
"Sure you can, Miss Sarah," Deacon looked at her expectantly.  
  
"Isn't it dangerous for free man to be in a slave state?"  
  
"It's dangerous to be anywhere these days, but no, there's quite a few of us living around the South. So long as they think we're keeping our place, most folks don't bother us." Deacon said this without rancor, it was a fact of life. "Virginia is my home and I like it best. I was up North for schooling, a lot of people up there were even worse than the ones down here - don't understand us and don't want to."  
  
They sat silently for a minute or so and then Mac cautiously broached a question she'd been wondering about, "Deacon?"  
  
"Yes'm?"  
  
"When those men showed up, you started talking differently."  
  
"You mean like an ignorant field hand?"   
  
Mac nodded slowly. Deacon wrapped his hands around a knee and leaned back, "Most folks see what they want to see; so I sound the way they expect me to sound."  
  
She frowned, "But doesn't having to practice that type of dishonesty bother you?"  
  
"Used to, when I was younger and full of piss and vinegar. I'm surprised I didn't get myself killed. My papa used to tell me you could cure ignorance but stupid goes right to the bone. Now I just think of it as tactics." He grinned conspiratorially, "You were pretty quick on the uptake just now. Being a woman, you probably have had to do the same thing."  
  
She grinned wryly, "Not nearly as often as you'd think. I believe I've acquired a reputation for speaking my mind."  
  
Deacon arched an eyebrow, "And look where that's got you."  
  
"Touche," she chuckled and then winced, "Oh, don't make me laugh." She paused for a moment, "So they think you're not smart enough to be hiding anything." Mac could see the logic in what he was doing.  
  
Deacon chuckled, "Actually, they suspect me of all kinds of native cunning, but they're also convinced they're too smart to be fooled." He snorted and then smiled, "It worked with you, too. They expected to see a man back here and with those pants and that short hair, they did."  
  
Mac raised an eyebrow, pulling the blanket away, "They might have seen more than they expected. I had my coat off."  
  
For once, Deacon seemed speechless, "Oh my... " Then he started to laugh, "Well, that's one on me. I thought you were dressed."  
  
She looked at him curiously, "Wouldn't the fact I was wearing Union blue have made a difference? One of the reasons I took the coat off was so no one would think you were hauling a Yankee around."  
  
Turner shook his head, "The South's so hard up for supplies of practically everything, that the soldiers are using Yankees to outfit 'em. So long as you didn't open your mouth, they'd think you were Southern."   
  
Mac was silent for a long moment, "How will your Miss Avis feel about my being a Yankee?"  
  
"She won't turn a hair, so don't you worry about that. Miss Avis don't hate people without cause," Deacon assured her. Mac continued to look pensive, thinking about what was going to happen to this lovely Valley and its people. Turner watched her for a moment, "What's wrong, Miss Sarah?"  
  
"She might have cause soon enough," Mac said finally. "General Sheridan is going to turn the Shenandoah into a wasteland. What Hunter did is going to seem mild."  
  
Deacon gave her a shocked look, "No." He sat frowning for a while and then looked at her again, "All of it? Even the folks' places that are on the Yankees' side?"  
  
Mac nodded. She could see the idea angered and appalled him and waited to see what he might do. This Deacon Turner seemed to be as thoughtful and fair-minded as Sturgis' father. She didn't think he'd kill the messenger.  
  
Finally he shook his head, "I don't understand people like that. It just seems spiteful mean." He paused for a moment, looking down at his hands, "My family has been here for four generations and now we're going to lose everything we've worked so hard for. It hardly seems fair." He looked over at her, "I suppose other folks have lost worse. At least this war hasn't cost me any of my family." He saw the look on Mac's face and patted her lightly on the shoulder, "Don't you worry, I not going to blame you just 'cos you're handy and neither will Miss Avis." They fell into a companionable silence. Mac drifted off to sleep, feeling somewhat reassured.  
  
Deacon watched her sleep. She was an unusual woman, even as white folks went. He couldn't get past the feeling that she thought she knew him. There was a familiarity when she talked to him tempered with a definite amount of respect. He sighed a little, this would be a mystery for Miss Avis to figure out. She enjoyed a puzzle and unless he missed his guess, Miss Sarah was going to be a good one.  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1730 Local  
  
"Miss Sarah? Miss Sarah, we're here. Are you awake?" Mac opened her eyes. With absolutely nothing to do, she's fallen asleep again. It had been 9 hours and 10 minutes since those two men had shown up. They'd stopped several times after that to rest and water the mules and once for themselves to eat. The remainder of the time was spent traveling, and for Mac, that meant the back of the wagon. It had been boring as hell and she found herself napping as much for that reason as the fact that her body needed the recovery time.   
  
Occasionally, Deacon had made his way to the back and chatted with her. It had been illuminating. Even though she knew this was one of Sturgis' ancestors, it was hard not to think of him as Chaplain Turner. The Turners were successful farmers and businessmen. With only a cursory knowledge of the social situation during the 1800s, she hadn't realized such a thing was possible in the South. They didn't have any more rights than women did but there was a place for them in society. Deacon's wife was a former slave who was a skilled cook. Ironically, that meant it cost that much more to buy her freedom. Fortunately, her owners had let her hire out for special occasions among the neighbors and keep the wages. With Deacon's help, she was able to gather the money she needed that much sooner.  
  
They had waited until she was free to marry. There were no laws or rules that said he couldn't have married her earlier but any children would have been born into slavery. The mother's status determined the children's. They'd met at church and Deacon, at least, had fallen in love almost immediately. She had kept a closer hold of her heart, determined to be free before starting a family. They had been married now for close to twenty years and had three fine sons. The oldest was seventeen and living in Boston with cousins while he attended school there.  
  
"Miss Sarah?" Deacon's voice cut into her thoughts and Mac realized with dismay that she'd dozed off again.  
"Yes, Deacon," she answered, rubbing her eyes. She'd found she could get into a sitting position with the least amount of discomfort if she rolled to her side and pushed from there. She'd also learned not to try it in a moving wagon. Mac pushed herself up and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to make herself a little more presentable. She was afraid it was a losing battle; Miss Avis was probably not going to be impressed. The wagon gave its familiar creak and sag as Deacon climbed up on the tailgate. He pulled aside the canvas and smiled at her, offering a hand, "Are you ready, ma'am?"  
  
Mac gave a short nod, suddenly nervous. Despite Deacon's assurances, what if Miss Avis didn't take her in? She'd be stranded deep in Southern territory without money, transportation or friends, with an accent that said she was the enemy. She couldn't stay with Deacon. He had a family to worry about and putting them in any more danger would be a poor repayment for his kindness.  
  
With Deacon's help, she managed to get out of the wagon with a modicum of grace. They were in the farmyard beside a small, white clapboard house. It looked like an older home but was obviously well-kept. Two stories high with a wrap-around porch, it was surrounded with flower gardens. A neat, white picket fence enclosed the yard and there was a clematis-covered archway over the gate. There was a woman standing just inside the gate, watching them. So this was Miss Avis. She was tall and slim, wearing a simple dark gray dress. Her hair was done up in a kerchief. What Mac could see of it, told her the woman was blonde. As they made their way closer, she was surprised at how young the woman was. From the way Deacon referred to her, Mac was expecting a more grandmotherly sort.  
  
She and Deacon stopped just outside the gate while Miss Avis watched them with surprisingly intense blue eyes. Deacon smiled and sketched a slight bow, "Miss Avis, may I present Miss Sarah MacKenzie? Miss MacKenzie, this is Miss Avis Harper Payne."  
  
Miss Avis extended her hand and smiled, "A pleasure, Miss MacKenzie." Her voice had a soothing, melodious lilt to it. If she was surprised or scandalized by the way Mac was dressed, she showed no sign. Nor did she take any obvious notice of the bruising on the side of Mac's face.  
  
Mac smiled in return, shaking Miss Avis' hand, "Please call me Sarah."  
  
Avis' eyebrows went up and she looked at Deacon, "Come into the house, where's Thomas?"  
  
Turner gave her a look, "I let him off at the top of the your lane. You know how he is; he said he'd walk the rest of the way to the Simpson place." Mac eyed the two of them, there was definitely something going on but she had no idea what it could be. Deacon gave her a hand up the steps. She was grateful for the help since she was beginning to feel a bit rubbery. The constant motion of the wagon with its random jolts hadn't been all that restful.  
  
Avis ushered them into a large kitchen. It was large and airy, with bundled herbs hanging from the ceiling and flowers on the windowsills. A large black tom looked up from where he was basking in a patch of sunlight. As Deacon settled Mac into a chair, the cat got up and sauntered over, weaving between Turner's legs with easy familiarity. He stopped to sniff at Mac's legs and then leapt into her lap for a closer inspection. Mac just had time to notice he was missing an eye when he curled up and began to purr.  
  
"That's Jolly Roger and I'm sorry to say, he's a shameless flirt." Avis glided in from a side door carrying a serving tray, Mac hadn't even noticed her leaving. Deacon rose from his chair and helped settle the tray on the table. There was a pitcher of lemonade, a platter of biscuits and two small bowls. One contained a yellow, creamy butter and the other, a soft cheese. Avis swept around the kitchen and returned with glasses, butter knives and plates. Gracefully settling in a chair, she smiled apologetically, "I hope this will do. I'm afraid I wasn't expecting company today and I hadn't cooked dinner yet." Mac and Deacon gave her their assurances and the next few minutes were devoted to eating.  
  
Finally Avis looked at the two of them before focusing on Deacon, "What's going on?"  
  
Deacon looked at her and then over to Mac, "Miss Sarah, would you show Miss Avis your necklace?"  
  
Mac stared at him, startled. That wasn't what she had expected to hear. She slowly reached inside her shirt and pulled out Annabel's necklace.  
  
Avis leaned forward to look and then sat back in surprise, staring at Deacon, "Oh my... " 


	13. Part 13

Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1805 Local  
  
Mac's hand closed protectively around the necklace as she looked from Deacon to Avis, "What is it?"  
  
Avis stared at her intently, "Where did you get that?"  
  
Leaning back a little from the intensity of Avis' gaze, Mac eyed her warily, "Annabel Simpson gave it to me."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"What?" Mac blinked, she hadn't been expecting that question either. On her lap, Roger turned up the volume of his purring. For some reason, she found it reassuring and absently began rubbing his neck with her free hand.  
  
"Why did she give you that necklace?" Avis softened her tone although her focus remained intense.  
  
Mac stared at her silently, thoughts racing through her head. What should she tell these two? Go with the whole story and get labeled a lunatic right off the bat or the truth in the strictest sense and tell them she had no idea what was going on in Annabel's head? Could she trust these people? What was so damn important about a necklace? For her, it was more of a talisman, an anchor to her previous life. A life she needed to get back to - Mac's conscience gave a little kick as Josiah's face flashed in front of her. Firmly, she pushed the thought of Josiah Rabb away. It was impossible, she was in love with Harm. She didn't belong here.  
  
"Miss Sarah?" Deacon's voice was quiet and soothing.  
  
She looked over at him, "I... I'm not sure. I was traveling and there was a storm. Annabel took me in. We had supper and then, since the storm seemed to be gone, I decided to keep going. Annabel didn't want me leave and when I wouldn't change my mind, she gave me the necklace. I tried to give it back, it's a family heirloom, but she insisted. Said I should come back to visit and to return the necklace then." She watched Deacon sit back with a puzzled look on his face. Avis still had the same intense expression. Mac took a deep breath, "Why are you so interested in this necklace?"  
  
Avis had just opened her mouth to speak when Roger suddenly launched himself off Mac's lap with a yowl. Mac bit back a curse. In the fine tradition of cats, Roger had dug in his claws to get a solid grip for his take-off. She forgot about the pinpricks to her legs as she watched Avis and then Deacon leap to their feet almost as quickly.  
  
"Wha... ?" was all she got out before Deacon was almost bodily lifting her out of the chair. Mac gritted her teeth, what the hell was going on? Avis flew to a window and then whirled back, "It's Corinna Simpson." She pointed to a narrow staircase in the corner that Mac hadn't noticed before. "Up to the servant's quarters! Hurry - I'll try to delay her."  
  
"Come on, Miss Sarah," Deacon said quietly as he hurried her over to the stairs. "Go on now, I'll be right behind to give you a hand."  
  
Mac hesitated, "Deacon, what's... ?"  
  
He cut her off, "No time, Miss Sarah, please! I have to be back down in the kitchen." Without another word, Mac turned and started to climb. The staircase was steep and narrow and before she was halfway up, she was using her hands as well. Deacon stayed right behind her. The stair ended in a little, tiny attic room. The only light came from the window dormer. The dormer was also the only place where Mac could stand upright. It was stiflingly hot. There was a narrow bed shoved up against the eaves, reminding Mac of the bunks on the Watertown. Aside from a stool which doubled as a table for a candle, the room was depressingly bare.  
  
Mac had reached the room on her hands and knees. She stayed on the floor, rolling on her side to look back at Deacon. He climbed just high enough so that his head cleared the opening. Putting his finger to his lips, he signaled for quiet and then quickly disappeared down the steps. She scooted over to the opening, hoping to get some inkling of what was going on. Between the climb and the heat, her heart was pounding and she was dripping with sweat. Mac took slow breaths, trying to get her heartrate down enough to hear something besides the loud beat of her pulse.  
  
She heard the door open and Avis' voice gradually growing louder, "... have always admired your azaleas, Corinna. I don't know why I have such trouble with them."  
  
A woman's voice replied, "They do take a certain touch, my dear. I would be pleased to help you with their care in the future. ... Oh hello, Deacon. I didn't realize you were still here."   
  
"Hello, Miz Corinna." Deacon's baritone was as calm and soothing as ever.  
  
"I needed to move some barrels in the barn and it was most fortuitous that Mr. Turner stopped by on his way home. I insisted that he have something to drink before he left." Avis' voice was equally calm.  
  
"I see... well, that was most kind of Deacon." Even Mac could hear the dubious note in Corinna's voice, "Of course, once Avril's home, such things won't be a problem." There was a slight pause and then Corinna spoke again, "Deacon, I'd like to speak with Miss Avis." Mac felt herself bristle a bit at the tone that said that Deacon was expected to obey the implicit dismissal. Whoever this Corinna was, Mac was beginning to dislike her.  
  
There was another pause and then Deacon's voice sounded, "I'd best be on my way, Miss Avis. You know how Chandra worries when I'm gone. I'll be back this way tomorrow if you need more help."  
  
"Thank you, Deacon. Be sure to give Chandra my best." Avis' voice receded a bit and then came the sound of a door opening and closing.  
  
As soon as the door closed Corinna started in, "Avis! You simply have to stop this type of behavior! People are talking enough as it is!"  
  
"People will talk no matter what I do, I see no reason to change my ways now." It sounded like Avis had had this discussion before.  
  
"No reason? No reason!! My dear, you are now engaged to my son. You know you're welcome to live with us until Avril comes home. There's no need for you to continue to stay out here by yourself. It's dangerous. Do you realize that this independence is beginning to seem more and more like stubborn willfulness? You cannot go about having men like Deacon Turner in your home without some sort of chaperone. What would Avril say if he heard of such a thing?" Mac's eyes had widened, this was Avis' future mother-in-law?  
  
Avis laughed, "Probably much the same thing he's said whenever he's met Deacon Turner in this house. Would Chandra consider giving me cooking lessons?"  
  
Corinna's voice was icy, "This is not a joke and I'll thank you not to treat it as one. You're doing Deacon a disservice acting the way you do. One day he'll forget his place with someone who is not as tolerant as I - someone like Hunter Milroy, and then where will he be?"   
  
"Hopefully in a position to beat some much needed sense into Milroy. Honestly, Corinna, Deacon Turner is old enough to be my father and easily worth a dozen Hunter Milroys. Why shouldn't I talk to him?" Avis sounded tired. "Why shouldn't I talk to anyone who's interesting and intelligent?" There was a brief silence and Mac could visualize this Corinna winding up for a devastating reply. Surprisingly, Avis beat her to it. Her voice sounded different, "The storm is almost upon us, Corinna. It's going to sweep everything before it and nothing will be left as it was. We must bend to survive."  
  
There was dead silence, Mac felt a prickle run down her spine. What had just happened? How had Avis found out about Sheridan? Deacon hadn't had time to tell her. The sound of a door slamming interrupted her thoughts and a few moments later, Avis' voice called up the steps, "Miss Sarah? It's safe to come down."  
  
Easier said than done, Mac thought wryly. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and swung her legs onto the steps. Keeping one arm wrapped around her middle and the other hand braced on the wall, she cautiously made her way down.  
  
Avis was standing by the table as Mac slowly descended into view. She turned around and her eyes widened. Hurrying over, she offered Mac a hand, "I'm so sorry, Sarah. I should have realized you might have other injuries." Her gaze traveled to the bruise on Mac's face as they made their way to a chair. "Would you like me to fetch the doctor?"  
  
Mac sank down gratefully and then shook her head, "No, I'm just bruised. Moving around is hard right now."  
  
"Who did this to you?" Avis sat down and looked at her sympathetically.  
  
"His name is Ezra Caine and I suppose he's now officially a deserter from the Union Army." Mac kept her voice dispassionate. If she ever ran into that SOB again, hopefully, she would be armed.  
  
"Did he... ?" Avis trailed off and waited.  
  
"No," Mac shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. "He thought I'd been fatally wounded and settled for hitting me before he left." Avis looked at her in surprise and although she didn't say anything, her eyes begged the question. Mac gave a small sigh and launched into the abbreviated version that she'd told Deacon.  
  
They were both silent after Mac finished and then Avis stood up decisively, "I think I'll need to hear the entire story at some point but, at the moment, I'm afraid I've been remiss. You'd probably like to get cleaned up and then you can decide if you'd prefer to rest. You stay right there and I'll draw a bath for you." Mac sat and watched as she stoked the fire in the stove and put water on to boil. Then she pulled out a short but deep metal tub from the corner and positioned it in front of the fireplace. She disappeared down a hallway and returned with a stack of towels and a robe thrown over her shoulder. Next she began pumping water into a bucket and started filling the tub. In surprisingly short time for the effort involved, Avis turned and smiled at Mac, "It's ready."  
  
Avis went back over to Mac and gave her a hand getting up. Returning to the tub, she quietly began assisting Mac in getting undressed. It didn't take long to divest herself of her clothes, Avis hissed in sympathy at the ugly bruise that covered the upper part of her abdomen. Mac glanced down at herself, this was her first look at her midsection as well. She'd been damn lucky that bullet hadn't killed her. She moved over to the side of the tub and Avis held onto her arm to steady her as she stepped in. Slowly, she lowered herself into the warm water and gave a grateful sigh. Mac couldn't remember the last time she'd had a real bath. While she was with Josiah and the regiment, her bathing had consisted of the wash basin and whatever streams were deep enough to swim/bathe in. It wasn't quite the same.  
  
Twenty-three minutes later, Mac reluctantly decided she'd soaked long enough. Stretching out an arm, she snagged a towel from the stack Avis had placed near the tub and carefully stood up. She was just tying the robe around herself when Avis reappeared.  
  
"Oh good," the young woman smiled, "I just finished preparing your room. Have you decided whether you'd like to lie down?"  
  
Mac thought it over for a few seconds. The biscuits and cheese had taken the edge off her hunger and the bath had relaxed her enough that she thought she could sleep. "I think I'd like to lay down but I'd like to talk with you as well."  
  
"No reason we can't do both, come along." Avis turned and walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway. She passed by a staircase and looked over her shoulder, "I put you in the downstairs bedroom. It's not as big but I thought it would be easier if you didn't have to negotiate the stairs."  
  
Mac smiled, "Thank you." She followed Avis into a small but well-appointed corner bedroom. It had two windows, one facing south, the other facing west. There was a canopy bed up against the far wall with a large wardrobe in the corner. A nightstand with a pitcher and basin sat by the side of the bed and there was a wingback chair with a footstool in the corner. A small sidetable with a kerosene lamp was next to the chair. And there were bookcases; by the wardrobe, the shelves went all the way to the ceiling, the rest were three shelves high and scattered about wherever there was space. Mac stopped for a moment, "This is lovely."  
  
"Thank you," Avis grinned, "As you can see, this is also my library. I have a passion for books that my father encouraged." She walked over to the bed, "I laid out a nightgown and some undergarments." Turning back to Mac, she eyed her critically, "We'll have to do something about dresses for you. We're about the same height, I think." Avis looked at Mac's chest, then down at her own and chuckled ruefully, "And there the similarity ends. I think I have one or two dresses that I can let out. We'll get something to fit." She gestured towards Mac's midsection, "For the time being, we'll have to stay away from tight-fitting bodices. You won't be able to tolerate a corset." Suddenly, she stopped, looking chagrined, "I'm sorry. Here I am prattling on and you'd probably like to lay down." Moving over to Mac, she deftly relieved her of the robe and helped with the nightgown. In a matter of minutes, Mac was in bed and propped up with pillows. Avis went to the wingback chair and dragged it over beside the bed. Settling in, she tilted her head to one side and smiled, "You wished to talk?"  
  
Mac looked at her silently for a moment, marshaling her thoughts. Finally, she took a deep breath and started, "First, I'd like to thank you for your hospitality. I appreciate all you've done but I'm a little confused. Both you and Deacon, have gone to a lot of trouble to help and you don't even know anything about me. You've taken me into your home and, for all you know, I could be some deranged ax-murderer. And why was it so important that Corinna Simpson not know I was here?" Avis laughed, "I don't think you're a deranged ax-murderer, but we could turn that around. You've trusted me, so far, and I could be the deranged ax-murderer." Mac conceded the point with a smile, the young woman could have been a lawyer. Avis waved a hand, "As for Corinna, she's a terrible gossip and staunchly, rabidly Southern. Your accent would have been enough for her. She'd have the community in a frenzy in no time at all. That she came here at all says she suspects something. Probably because Thomas walked home from here - not that he'd say anything - but she obviously thought something was going on. Hopefully, having her catch Deacon in the house will put her on the wrong track."  
  
Mac raised an eyebrow, "And she's your future mother-in-law?"  
  
Avis smiled wryly, "Fortunately, her son is nothing like her." Her smile turned wistful, "He's serving under John B. Gordon and I pray daily for his safety. You couldn't ask for a finer man. Black hair, dark eyes and a smile that lights up your soul; a steady heart and generous nature, he makes me laugh more than he makes me cry. What more could you ask?"  
  
"He sounds wonderful," Mac had a lump in her throat, thinking of Harm and how much she missed him. Suddenly, Josiah's face appeared in front of her and she closed her eyes. Stop it! You don't belong here.  
  
"Sarah?" Mac opened her eyes to see Avis watching her. The young woman smiled, "What's your man like?"  
  
Mac opened her mouth and then closed it. Finally, she smiled, "He's in the military, too. Tall, dark hair, sea-green eyes and a smile that's made me go weak in the knees more often than I'd like to admit. He's brave, loyal, honorable and loves me to the depths of his soul. It scares me sometimes, I don't know what I did to deserve him."  
  
Avis looked at her with compassion, "You haven't seen him in some time." It wasn't a question.  
  
Mac gave a short laugh, wiping at her eyes, "Shows, does it?" She sighed, "It's been 58 days and 17 hours."  
  
"That just a rough estimate?" Avis' eyebrows quirked upward as she tried to stifle a grin. "Avril hasn't been home for about four months now but he writes often, although the letters don't always arrive. When they go into winter quarters, I'll be able to visit." She leaned back, tapping her chin, "You're welcome to stay here until we can find a safe way to get you home. Meanwhile, we'll need some way to explain your presence that won't have people throwing rocks at you." Avis fell silent. At length, she said, "With your coloring, you could almost pass for a Creole but I'm afraid you don't sound like one. Have you ever been to New Orleans?" Mac shook her head. "That won't work then," Avis sighed, "There's bound to be someone who has been there and they'll know if you're lying."  
  
"I speak Russian and Farsi fluently, with a smattering of German, French and Japanese," Mac said helpfully.  
  
She blinked when Avis clapped her hands and grinned, "Why, that's perfect, Sarah! No one here speaks Russian. I can't say I've ever heard of Farsi but that won't be important. I was abroad about five years ago. You can be someone I met while there and now you're returning the visit."  
  
"Arriving without carriage or luggage? Looking like I've been in a brawl?" Mac asked dryly. "I'm not sure anyone will buy it."  
  
Avis looked confused for a moment and then shook her head, "We'll use a version of what really happened to you. You were set upon by ruffians, tried to escape but your carriage overturned. Your driver died and they thought you were dead as well and left. Then Deacon found you, you told him my name and he brought you here." She sat back with a satisfied air, "That should answer any questions anyone might have."  
  
Mac eyed her, "All but one, you still haven't told me why you're doing all this."  
  
Avis regarded her thoughtfully, "You aren't distracted easily, are you?" She got up and moved to sit on the side of the bed. Reaching inside the collar of her dress, she pulled out a necklace and showed it to Mac.  
  
Mac stared at it for a moment and then her eyes widened and her hand came up to clutch Annabel's necklace. Avis nodded, "That's how I felt when I saw yours." She reached up and unfastened hers and, after a moment, Mac did the same and laid both necklaces side by side. They were identical except for the fact that Mac's was considerably more worn. Avis fingered her necklace, "This was given to me on my christening day by my Godfather. He was a silversmith in Richmond. He made this especially for me, there are no others. I planned to hand it down to my daughter should I be so blessed." Mac felt the hair go up on the back of her neck. She looked at Avis silently. Slowly, Avis continued, still looking at the necklaces, "So I suppose my question shouldn't be 'where are you from?' but 'when are you from?'" 


	14. Part 14

Part 14  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1915 Local  
  
Mac stared at Avis. The young woman had jumped to the most improbable... and logical, conclusion about the necklaces and her presence without batting an eye. What to tell her? That the Universe had a perverse sense of humor and she was the pragmatic lab rat in an esoteric maze? Mac felt like a complete amateur when it came to something as ridiculous as time travel. Her only points of reference were Star Trek movies and they always made it seem vitally important not to tell anyone if you were from future. She had trusted Josiah with the truth but he had had to argue her into accepting it. That had been when she was still positive this was all some giant delusion. Did that mean the future was already screwed? Or could it be that history progressed the way it did because key people did know she was from 2003?  
  
"Does your head hurt?"   
  
Avis' voice brought her back to the present and she realized she was rubbing her temples. Mac sighed, "A little, paradoxes seem to do that to me." She raised an eyebrow at Avis, "How did you come to that conclusion? Most people would have dismissed it out of hand and looked for another, more believable, theory."  
  
Avis shrugged and Mac was surprised to see her begin to blush, "You'll probably think I'm crazy."  
  
Mac snorted, "Try me." Avis gave her a startled look. 'Wrong Century,' Mac resisted rolling her eyes. "Tell me."  
  
"My mother called it the family curse, my grandmother said it was a gift," Avis gave Mac a cautious look. "I see things. Sometimes it's things that are going to happen and sometimes it's things that have happened somewhere else. A good deal of what I see around you, I don't understand at all."  
  
Mac took a quick breath and then let it out slowly. Avis thought she had psychic powers? ...Well, why the hell not? If someone had insisted that traveling through time was possible 53 days ago, she'd have laughed and decided that their floorboards were slightly warped. She certainly wasn't laughing now, so why not someone with psychic abilities? Besides, the fact that Avis was, in all likelihood, Annabel's ancestor had to be more than just a coincidence.   
  
Avis stared at Mac intently and then closed her eyes, "You wear a uniform. It's... green with splotches?"  
  
Mac froze for a moment and then cleared her throat, "Yes."  
  
Suddenly Avis shot to her feet, "There are explosions, and people running. They're frightened and there's a little girl..." She turned wide eyes to Mac, "Who are you??"  
  
Taking a deep breath, Mac decided to take the plunge. At this point, what did she have to lose? Josiah had forced her to realize that she needed help to handle this dilemma, "My name is Sarah MacKenzie and I'm a Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Marine Corps. I'm an attorney and I serve as the Chief of Staff at the headquarters for the Navy's Judge Advocate General. What you just saw, happened to me at an embassy in the Far East over a year ago." Mac kept her voice calm although she was feeling more than a little rattled. In the back of her mind, she made a note to apologize to Sturgis - whenever she saw him again - for what she had put him through on that murder case. Having someone do this sort of thing was too damn eerie.   
  
"You're a military officer and a lawyer? Women can do that?" Avis was looking flabbergasted. "How? When?"  
  
"Yes, I am and yes, we can," Mac leaned back against the pillows and gestured towards the chair, "I think you should sit, this is a long story." She waited for Avis to get comfortable and then started, "Fifty-three days ago, I drove to the town of Palos, here in the Shenandoah, to interview a witness... "  
  
The last vestiges of dusk disappeared as Mac continued with her story. As full dark settled on the room, Avis got up and lit the oil lamp, still listening intently. Roger crept in and settled himself on the foot of the bed.  
  
"... and when I woke up, I was in Deacon's wagon and now, here I am," Mac finally concluded. Having to tell everything that had happened had, at least, helped organize it in her own mind. Maybe there was a solution in there somewhere. She'd done her best to separate the emotions from the facts. The sense of loss she felt about Harm was bad enough. What was surprising was how much she missed Josiah. Worry was taking up a large part of her feelings about the Colonel as well. She could only pray that he wouldn't do anything foolish.  
  
Avis sat silently for several long seconds and then shook her head, "That's a remarkable story. These things you talk about so casually... cars, phones, elec...?"   
  
"Electricity," Mac supplied and Avis nodded thoughtfully.  
  
"It seems like magic. Man has learned how to fly?" She tapped her chin as Mac affirmed that fact, "We must seem like savages to you."  
  
Mac looked at her in surprise and shook her head, "Not at all, would you think of your great-grandparents as savages? We've just learned how to do some things faster, I don't necessarily think it's always better. Life in the 21st century is pretty hectic. Sometimes it's so overwhelming, you can't even breathe. People are losing their patience - everything has to happen right away or they lose interest or worse, lose their tempers. They want instant gratification."  
  
Avis smiled, "I believe I know some people who are like that in this century. They don't want to take the time to work to get something, they'd rather take it from someone else."   
  
"I guess it's true then, that people don't change," Mac smiled as well, "Those types are still around in my century."  
  
"And isn't that a pity?" Avis grinned and then stifled a yawn. "This has been truly fascinating, Sarah, but now it's time to sleep." She stood up and hauled the chair back to the corner, "We'll discuss this again in the morning and see about presenting you to the community." She blew out the light and started out of the room. At the doorway, she turned and smiled, "You're safe here, Sarah, sleep well."  
  
Mac sank deeper into the bed, it had been ages since she'd slept in one of these, too. She was willing to believe Avis that it was safe here, at least for now. Roger grumbled a bit and rearranged himself so that he was draped over a foot. Mac closed her eyes; tomorrow, she'd broach the subject of Sheridan.  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 0605 Local  
  
Mac awoke to the smell of bacon frying. Throwing off the covers, she swung her legs out of bed and sat up, pleased to find that she was less sore than yesterday. She turned to the nightstand, pouring water into the basin and splashing some on her face. After patting herself dry, she slipped into the robe that had been draped across the foot of the bed and padded towards the kitchen.  
  
Avis looked up as she entered the kitchen, "Good morning! Breakfast is almost ready. There's eggs, bacon, grits and biscuits with gravy. I'm afraid coffee has become a precious commodity. There's a substitute concoction made with chicory but I really can't abide it. I do have tea, or buttermilk if you prefer."  
  
Mac smiled, "Tea will be fine. Is there anything I can do?"  
  
"Not at the moment," Avis smiled as she started putting platters of food on the table. She sat down herself after bustling about for another minute or so. Mac had waited for Avis to sit and then bowed her head as the young woman said grace.   
  
Finishing, Avis looked up, "Help yourself, there's plenty." The two women ate in a comfortable silence. When the tea kettle began to whistle, Avis got up and returned with cups, saucers and a cannister of tea. Then she brought over the kettle and poured the steaming water into each cup. Finally, she placed a mason jar of honey on the table. "Sugar's a mite scarce, too," she said apologetically, "But I've found that I actually prefer the honey."  
  
"I prefer it, too," Mac assured her. They sipped their tea quietly. Mac was idly tracing the wood pattern on the table, deep in thought. She glanced up to find Avis watching her and smiled slightly, "Are you still seeing things around me that you don't understand?"  
  
Avis smiled in return, "I don't always see things, but... I think you know that already." She tilted her head to the side, "It took me a little while to figure it out but you have the gift as well." She sat and waited expectantly.  
  
Mac stared at her and then looked down at the table and sighed, "I suppose you could say that but it's pretty sporadic. It's only happened three times and I've definitely been in some situations where it would have been pretty handy to have had it start working. How in the world do you control it?"  
  
Avis shook her head, "You don't, you just try to understand it when it comes. Judging by my mother and grandmother, how often it happens, depends on how strongly you have it... and how hard you fight against it. My mother hated it. She refused to acknowledge any visions, so it's hard to know exactly how strong her gift was. My grandmother, on the other hand, embraced it. She was amazing." She leaned back a little, absently swirling what was left of her tea, "All the women in my family have had it to some degree or other. It's common knowledge in these parts that the Payne women are... well... polite folk say 'different'."  
  
Mac eyed her, "And the not so polite?"  
  
Avis gave her a small grin, "You do have an interesting way of phrasing things, don't you?" She shook her head, "The 'not so polite' say witch."  
  
"They don't really believe that, do they?" Mac looked at her in concern. Hadn't the fear of witchcraft gone out with the Salem witch trials?  
  
Avis shrugged, "There's always some that find it easier to blame me for their own clumsiness or misfortunes." She wiggled her fingers at Mac and assumed a sinister expression, "Beware! I have the 'Evil Eye!" She smiled, "It's usually just talk. Fortunately, folks like Avril, Deacon and even Corinna are too sensible to believe any of it."   
  
A tiny, little alarm went off in Mac's head. She looked at Avis carefully, " 'It's usually just talk'? Who didn't stop at 'just talk'?"  
  
"I'm going to have to remember to be more careful in what I say. You hear things most people miss." Avis sat back, shaking her head, "It's not important, Deacon and Avril caught him before he could do anything and they ran him out of the area. That was about two years ago, just before Avril went to join John Gordon's staff. I haven't had any trouble since then." She stood up and began gathering dishes. Mac stood up as well to help. Avis smiled at her, "That's truly not necessary, but if you insist, I won't argue. After we've cleaned up, I'll get started on altering a dress for you. Can you sew?"  
  
Mac shook her head ruefully, "I'm afraid not. It's not that necessary a skill in my time."  
  
Avis waved a hand, "It's not that important. It won't take that long to alter one of my dresses and then we can see about introducing you around. Unless I miss my guess, the ladies of the neighborhood will be happy to contribute to your wardrobe after they hear your story."  
  
"I wouldn't want to take advantage of them," Mac said uncomfortably.  
  
"You won't be," Avis asserted, "The women who will contribute are the ones who have dresses to spare. We won't be changing the facts, merely the circumstances. Just don't mention Col. Rabb and the Yankees." She grinned suddenly, "Or the future. Someone will want to know about the latest fashions."  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1620 Local  
  
Mac twisted her hands together. She couldn't believe how nervous she was about this. Given a choice between facing Corinna and her cadre of friends or a terrorist Al-Qaeda cell, she'd be hard put to decide. Avis glanced over at her and smiled, "It won't be that bad, Sarah. These women are going to find you terribly interesting and exotic. If they ask something you don't know about, just answer in Russian."  
  
Mac nodded wordlessly, taking a deep breath. She would have preferred meeting these women one or two at a time but Avis had vetoed that idea. Better to get as many of the leading ladies together as possible and only go through this once. Gossip would accomplish the rest, they'd probably never have to repeat the story again. To that end, she had enlisted Deacon's help. He'd come over again as he had said he would and Avis had filled him in on her plan to introduce Mac to the neighborhood. She had to give the young woman credit, Avis had carefully omitted the parts about the future and still presented a plausible story. As far as Deacon was concerned, they were trying to hide a Yankee woman in their midst until they could get her safely home. He'd found the whole idea amusing and was more than willing to do his part.   
  
He had headed into town around noon with the story of his 'rescue' of the Russian woman the night before. True to form, Corinna had been ready to head out to Avis' home to take over the care of the stranger almost immediately. Deacon managed to dissuade her, suggesting that the poor, foreign woman had had enough happen to her and Miss Avis was the only person she knew. Gradually, he led Corinna to the conclusion that it would be less overwhelming if a small but select group visited. The formidable Mrs. Simpson had sent back word with Deacon that she and the ladies of her church group would call later in the afternoon to offer sympathy and support.  
  
Mac jumped when Roger leapt up from his nap by the hearth and disappeared down the hallway with a yowl. What the hell was wrong with that cat? She turned back to see Avis up and peering out the kitchen window. "They're here," she announced. "Come along, we'll meet them in the parlor. I'll get the door and bring the ladies to you."  
  
Nodding, Mac got up and followed Avis to the parlor. Still too nervous to sit, she moved to the fireplace and examined the knick-knacks on the mantle. The approaching sound of voices and footsteps made her turn, smoothing her dress with hands that suddenly didn't want to keep still. Firmly, she clasped them at her waist, straightened her shoulders and waited. She was a Marine officer, goddammit, she could do this.  
  
Avis smiled warmly at the ladies as they made their way up the walk. The last twenty-four hours or so had left her feeling like she'd been caught in a whirlwind and she was still unable to escape its grip. The jolt she had felt when she first laid eyes on Sarah MacKenzie had nearly knocked her off her feet. The woman was at the vortex of a dizzying and disturbing array of images. Avis had found herself focusing on the steady and unflappable Deacon in order to create a buffer.   
  
It hadn't been hard to maintain a calm facade. She was a Southern woman after all, and her mother had trained her well in the social niceties. That facade had cracked slightly when she actually shook hands with Sarah. The trauma the other woman had been through had rolled off of her in waves. Avis had been somewhat prepared for that, she would have had to been blind not to see that Miss MacKenzie had been injured. There was also the sense of a formidable strength and will, but it was the ominous feeling of imminent danger that had rocked her. That, and a strong feeling of displacement.  
  
It had created a slight breach of etiquette, Avis had suddenly been overwhelmed with the need to get Sarah out of sight, she'd practically ordered them into the house. There, she'd fled the room, leaving Deacon to settle Miss MacKenzie. Going to the springhouse to retrieve the lemonade, butter, cheese and platter of biscuits that she'd made that morning had given her a chance to regroup, as well as a plausible excuse for abandoning her guests. Finding Roger purring on Sarah's lap had given her her first reassurance that Miss MacKenzie wasn't the threat. A harbinger, perhaps, but not the threat. Roger, with the discernment peculiar to cats, had no problem distinguishing friend from foe. He absolutely refused to be in the same room with Corinna.  
  
The mundane task of eating had further settled her nerves, enough to ask Deacon why he'd brought Sarah to her. Seeing her necklace on Miss MacKenzie had been a shock. Hearing that Annabel Simpson had given her a 'family heirloom' was discomfiting to say the least. The feeling of displacement had grown stronger. Annabel had been her grandmother's name. She'd been so focused on why Sarah had the necklace that she'd missed the early warnings. Roger had been her first inkling that trouble was almost upon them. It hadn't taken second sight to realize that having Corinna meet Sarah right then would have been an unmitigated disaster.  
  
After Deacon and Corinna left, the sight of Miss MacKenzie making her way painfully down the steps had left Avis berating herself for her thoughtlessness. She'd thrown herself into making amends. In the course of the next few hours, they had casually chatted. Avis found that she enjoyed the older woman's company. Sarah had a keen intellect and a disconcerting habit of slicing through the flotsam to focus on a particular point. One point had been Avis' reaction to the necklace. Avis was willing to wager that the look on Sarah's face when she saw Avis' necklace had mirrored her own. Laying the necklaces side by side had finally illuminated the displaced feeling. It wasn't so much where Sarah was from, but when.  
  
However wildly improbable that seemed to be, it felt right. Ironically, Sarah had challenged her on her conclusion - not because it was wrong, she noticed - but because she'd decided on it so quickly. Realizing that vacillation was a waste of time, Avis gathered her resolve and told Sarah about her abilities. The dark-haired woman had listened to her quietly and had remained silent, although her expression was thoughtful rather than incredulous. Avis had taken a chance and focused a little more intently on Sarah. The impression that had crashed into her mind had scared the bejeebers out of her. It also, apparently, crystalized Sarah's decision to talk. The tale that followed had been amazing.  
  
It wasn't until the next morning that Avis realized that Sarah MacKenzie also possessed the gift. It went a long way to explaining why one of her descendants would hand over the necklace to someone who was essentially a stranger. That thought warmed her, she hadn't considered it before, but here was proof that Avril survived the war and that they had had children.   
  
She and Sarah had discussed everything again while she modified a dress to fit. She'd made the older woman go over every detail of her meeting with Annabel, Sarah had an amazing memory. Avis was sure they could get her back to her own time. She had a theory but it would take time for all the elements to come together. Meanwhile, the feeling of growing danger lurked just below the surface. The storm was going to break soon and Avis couldn't help feeling that Sarah MacKenzie was one of its targets. 


	15. Part 15

Part 15  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1630 Local  
  
"Corinna, ladies, how good of you to visit. Won't you come in?" Avis smiled and held the door open, nodding to each of the church ladies as they entered. These six women were the movers and shakers of town society. Avis was always careful to count fingers and toes after venturing into their sphere of influence. Sharks could take lessons from them.  
  
Corinna pasted on a smile for her future daughter-in-law. She was still slightly annoyed about Avis' intransigence yesterday, "Deacon Turner mentioned your guest and her unfortunate circumstances. I took the liberty of consulting with my church group and we agreed that helping would be the Christian thing to do." She didn't mention that they were all consumed with curiosity. No one could remember ever meeting someone from Russia. Corinna was in a fair way of convincing herself that Avis' friend was probably nothing more than peasant stock. Given the young woman's penchant for talking with anyone and everyone, she wouldn't be surprised if this person turned out to be a penniless guttersnipe.  
  
Biddy Collins spoke up, "Is it true she's a cousin of the Tsar?" Corinna flashed her an irritated look. Biddy was old enough to have buried three husbands. She had acquired a good deal of property and a multitude of offspring but very little sense.   
  
"Gracious, no, Mrs. Collins," Avis smiled brightly, "Miss Dzurick is the daughter of a Russian diplomat. We met in France and I told her that she simply had to visit me should she ever come to Virginia." She fluttered a hand as she led the eager ladies towards the parlor, "You can imagine how awful I feel that this incident should be her first experience in our fair state." She slid open the parlor doors, calling, "Sasha! We have guests." Avis walked into the room and stepped to the side, watching carefully.  
  
It was hard not to laugh. However nervous Sarah had seemed to be before this, there was no sign of it now. Even with the bruise on the side of her jaw, she was an elegantly beautiful woman. The deep burgundy dress complimented her coloring. Avis had made the bodice more form-fitting, Sarah was slender enough even without a corset. Her hair had required a little imagination, it just reached her shoulders. They'd managed to sweep it up into a small bun. Judicious use of decorative combs had completed the look. Her bearing as she turned to face the ladies made Avis regret that they hadn't tried passing Sarah off as Russian royalty. She looked like a queen granting an audience to a group of dowdy merchants' wives. The effect wasn't lost on the church ladies, even Corinna seemed awestruck. Avis hurried into the breach, before the silence could become uncomfortable, "Ladies? May I present Miss Sasha Natalya Dzurick?"   
  
Mac inclined her head with a slight smile, "Rada s vamee poznakomit'siy." She hesitated for just a moment and then said in a softly accented voice, "How do you do?"   
  
Avis nodded, trying to keep a decorous expression, "Sasha, may I present Corinna Simpson, the mother of my fiance? And this is Maude Sifer... " Eventually, she made her way through the group while Mac smiled and murmured, 'Zdravstvuyte.' to each lady. Introductions over, Avis smiled again, "Won't you all make yourselves comfortable? I'll be back in a moment with the tea." Mac headed straight for a centrally located wingback chair. The ladies watched to see where she was sitting and began jockeying for positions that were closest. Corinna stood torn, undecided whether to follow Avis and help with the tea (thus being in a position to find out more about her guest) or claiming the prime seat closest to Miss Dzurick as her due for being the leader.  
  
In the end, she claimed her seat. Eudora Dickerson was angling to move up through the group. It was common knowledge that Corinna had lost some ground when her son proposed to one of the not-quite-acceptable Payne women. The uneducated, unwashed elements of town were gleefully claiming that Avis had put a spell on the handsome son of Corinna Simpson. It would be like Eudora to make a point of challenging Corinna's position in the Payne home.  
  
Mac settled in the wingback and watched as the pecking order sorted itself out. There'd been a moment of quiet tension when Corinna Simpson had locked eyes with another lady over the seat immediately to the left of Mac's chair. The undercurrents in the room were as fierce as any actual combat. She stifled a sigh, wishing she could have escaped to the kitchen with Avis for even a little while. Her attention was dragged back into the room when Corinna began speaking to her in a loud, slow voice. Resisting the urge to put a finger in the ear closest to Corinna, Mac smiled politely, "Pardon?"  
  
Corinna blinked and then started over again, "I said it was a most unfortunate incident and I hoped you would not judge all of Virginia by such acts."  
  
Mac inclined her head slightly, "How can I when I've been treated with such kindness by Miss Avis, Mr. Turner and now, of course, you ladies?" It was some small bit of revenge to mention Deacon in the same sentence with the church ladies.  
  
"Um, well... yes, how good of you to feel that way," Corinna shot a glance at the other ladies. It wasn't exactly the answer she was expecting.   
  
Avis came back just then carrying a tray laden with a beautiful silver tea service and a platter of small cakes. Automatically, Mac started to push herself out of the chair only to be reminded rather forcefully that her abdominal muscles weren't that far along in healing. She stopped where she was, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes as she waited for the pain to pass. Her eyes flew open when she felt a hand rest briefly on her arm. Startled, she watched as Corinna rose to assist Avis. Carefully, she eased back into the chair and a minute or so later, Avis appeared in front of her with a cup of tea and a little dish of cakes. "Are you all right? You worried Corinna," she asked in a quiet undertone.  
  
Mac nodded, taking a careful breath, "I moved without thinking, it will pass." Avis looked at her a moment longer, then patted her knee and went back to her hostess duties.  
  
As soon as all the ladies were served, Corinna came back and sat down. She sipped her tea and then leaned unobtrusively towards Mac, "I beg your pardon, Miss Dzurick, you should be resting. We will leave as soon as politeness allows." Mac gave a minute nod and Corinna turned her attention to the ladies. In an louder tone, she addressed Avis, effectively cutting off Eudora who had been about to launch a barrage of questions at Mac, "My dear, you simply must give me the recipe for these cakes. They're so wonderfully light. Aren't they, Mrs. Dickerson?"  
  
Surprised, Eudora stuttered a moment while she changed gears, "Wha... oh yes." She offered Avis an insincere smile, "Just delightful." Although she maintained a polite facade, her frustration was almost palpable as Corinna took control of the conversation. Less than fifteen minutes later, Corinna stood and began ushering the group out of the room. She smiled at Avis and Mac, "I hate to leave so abruptly, but you know how busy our church group has been lately. Thank you so much for meeting with us, Miss Durzick." She waved a hand as Mac started to shift, "Please don't get up. I'm sure I speak for the rest of the ladies when I say we hope to see more of you during your stay. Avis, tea was delightful, I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
Avis saw them to the door and then came back into the parlor and flopped gracelessly onto the sofa. With an exaggerated sigh, she held her hands up in front of her face and wiggled her fingers.  
  
"What are you doing?" Mac asked with a smile.  
  
"Counting," Avis shuddered dramatically and raised her feet, "Everything seems intact. That Eudora Dickerson was entirely too close for comfort. Honestly, the woman reeks of ruthless ambition." She was fell silent, frowning.  
  
Mac felt a prickling at the back of her neck, "She's dangerous, isn't she?"  
  
"Ye-es," Avis drew the word out thoughtfully, "And not just for us, Corinna is in this, too." She looked over at Mac and raised an eyebrow, "I believe this is the first time that my future mother-in-law not only hasn't felt mortified by my behavior, but has actually treated me as an ally. You're quite the catalyst."  
  
"Me?" Mac shook her head, "I doubt that." Carefully, she began to lever herself out of the chair.  
  
Avis bounced up and gave her a hand, "You should rest while I get supper started."  
  
"No," Mac headed for the tray, "The least I can do is help clean up. You've been doing all the work, I don't want to be a burden."  
  
"You're not a burden. You're a guest and an injured guest at that." Avis deftly intercepted the tray and smiled at the exasperation on Mac's face, "If you're going to be stubborn about this, I will consider allowing you to sit at the kitchen table. You may entertain me while I go about my chores."  
  
"Entertain you?" Mac put her fists on her hips, "I'll have you know that I'm not so decrepit that I can't wash a few dishes or help prepare a meal."  
  
Avis rolled her eyes, "All right, all right, but any assistance you render will be done sitting down." She grinned and batted her eyelashes, "I am far too delicate to be prying you off the floor and carrying you to your bed."  
  
Mac snorted and then chuckled, "I might collapse just to see you try." Smiling, the two women headed for the kitchen.  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 0330 Local  
  
"No!" Mac's eyes flew open and she bit back a groan as she tried to shove herself into a sitting position. She made it as far as her elbows and rolled to the side, clamping an arm across her midsection. Roger watched her from the foot of the bed and when she didn't move any further, apparently decided that an earwashing was called for. Mac watched him absently. Avis claimed he was as good as any watchdog. He always knew when someone was coming. If it was a person he knew, she could tell from his reaction who it was. Deacon made him purr; with Corinna, he would leave the room howling; for Avril, he would sit by the front door and sing a song of welcome.  
  
Mac sighed heavily. The nightmare that had awoken her was fast receding, leaving her to deal with the faint residue of terror. She ran a hand through her hair and dropped back into the pillows. At least this had been more like a normal nightmare with swirling scenes of Avis, Eudora, Josiah and Ezra Caine. Mac stared up into the darkness. She was fairly certain that there was nothing psychic about it - listening to Avis had made her more aware of such things. This was probably nothing more than a reaction to the stress of meeting the neighborhood mafia.  
  
Despite Avis' assurances that she carried off the charade in grand style, Mac wasn't so sure. The Dickerson woman had been bursting with questions; that Corinna had headed her off at the pass and then cut the meeting short hadn't set well at all. You didn't have to be psychic to see the resentment and anger bubbling under surface. She wondered just how ruthless Eudora Dickerson could be. Mac scrubbed at her face and then loosely clasped her hands above her head. Such competitiveness seemed silly when the reward was no higher than being the social queen of a very small town. That didn't make the stakes any less hazardous. Avis, Deacon and now, an unwitting Corinna, had left themselves open to the wrath of the community. In this day and age, that anger could easily become physical.  
  
For everyone's sake, she ought to try to get back to the Union army... and Josiah. However, it was something she was reluctant to do. For one thing, she was finally close to the White Horse Tavern. It was little more than an hour away by buggy. The McNairs still owned it, Avis had filled her in on the details of Mary Patrick's breakdown. Avis had also told her that she had a theory about getting Mac back to her own century. She wouldn't say any more on the subject, beyond telling her that time and circumstances weren't right yet. The one time Mac had pressed her about it, Avis had clammed up, but the look on her face reminded Mac of Shakespeare's line, 'By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.' She hadn't pursued it any further.  
  
The other problem was that she found she didn't want to be associated with the Union army. She had filled Avis in on what was going to happen and the young woman's reaction had been much like Deacon's. The problem would be warning anyone else without giving her away. Avis was going to try it as a psychic moment with Corinna and hope that it wasn't dismissed out of hand. That she'd already had inklings of it, made a more precise prediction that much more plausible. Mac wasn't quite sure what good the warnings would do - the Shenandoah was still going to be burned. What she didn't know was how far up the mountain slopes the Yankees would go. Would it be possible to hide some of the livestock and foodstuffs up there until the Army had passed through? Deacon, when asked, had allowed that it was possible but pointed out that keeping the stock alive through the winter would be practically impossible. Once the Union army destroyed the crops, there would be no forage. The whole thing left Mac feeling horribly guilty.  
  
Finally, there was Josiah. She was afraid to see him again, afraid of her feelings for him. This would be the third day since her kidnapping and she discovered he was occupying equal space with Harm. That left her feeling guilty as well, it was a wonder she didn't drown in it. ...And there was the worry. Mac found she wasn't as worried about Harm as she was about Josiah. After all, for all she knew, no one in her present time even realized she was missing. Josiah, on the other hand, was liable to do something foolish. She could only pray that Tommy and Billy could keep him safe and not let him do anything that would get him killed. What truly scared her was that seeing him again might make her reconsider going back at all.  
  
For that matter, going back scared her - period. She'd been so focused on whether or not it was possible that she hadn't considered the consequences. It was another of those conundrums that was guaranteed to drive her crazy. If... when she returned to her own time, would it be at the precise moment that she'd left? She was pretty sure it had happened before she drove off the road. (Which meant that somewhere on Massanutten Mountain in 1864, there was a wrecked 2001 Ford sedan.) Did that mean she wouldn't have the accident? That she'd make it to DC that night and be on the bench the following morning? Would she even remember all of this happening? Would it have happened?  
  
Or... would she appear after being missing for several months with her only explanation being one that no one would possibly believe? She'd probably go from the pysch ward in Bethesda straight to Leavenworth for being AWOL. The worst part of that scenario would be Harm. If the past was any indication, he'd go crazy trying to find her. She'd become one of his obsessions and he'd probably wreck his career because of it. Mac knew he would try to believe her story but she also knew he'd be hurt thinking she didn't trust him with the truth. More than likely, he'd decide it was Webb's fault (if he hadn't already). Clay would wind up with another broken nose for something he hadn't done.   
  
Even worse, Harm might look at her past and decide that she'd run away again; that she couldn't handle a relationship with him and had just left without a word of explanation. When she showed up again, she'd be lucky if he would even speak to her and then, what would she say? He'd be insulted that she'd invent some cock and bull story of being lost in the past - that she couldn't just admit that she'd had second thoughts and left. Oh hell, what if he thought she'd chosen to disappear deliberately, knowing his fears about letting someone get close? He could easily wind up hating her.   
  
Mac pressed her hands over her eyes, 'Stop it!' If she let herself get caught up in worst case scenarios, she might as well borrow Avis' scattergun and blow her brains out right now. She grunted when ten pounds of cat landed on her chest. Pulling her hands away, she saw Roger's furry face was only inches from her own. When he saw she was watching, he began to purr and tilted his head towards her. Mac raised an eyebrow and began scratching an ear, "I see, since I'm up I might as well make myself useful?" Roger's only response was to angle his head for a chin rub while the volume of his purr increased. Mac felt herself calming down as she concentrated on scritching. Roger was downright therapeutic. She'd let the nightmare get to her, tainting her concerns. Worrying about things over which she had no control was stupid, as was tormenting herself with catastrophic what-ifs. What would happen, would happen and she would deal with it as it came.  
  
"Thanks, Roger," she gave him a final pat and watched as he hopped off the bed and sauntered to the open window. Jumping up on the windowsill, he looked back at her and then disappeared into the pre-dawn darkness. With a sigh, Mac burrowed back into the pillows for a few more hours' sleep. 


	16. Part 16

Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1030 Local  
  
Avis looked up from her sewing when Mac came in through the kitchen door. Without much of a wardrobe to choose from, she was back in the shirt and trousers she'd shown up in. They might not be appropriate but at least they were clean. If pressed, Avis might even be inclined to admit they were much more practical for farm chores. Sarah had been restless and somewhat anxious this morning. Against her better judgment, Avis had finally escorted her to the barn and handed her a list of chores. She made Sarah promise to do no heavy lifting and headed back to the house to alter another dress. "All done?" Avis inquired mildly.  
  
Mac nodded wordlessly and glanced at the floor for a moment, "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I haven't been very good company this morning."  
  
Avis stopped sewing, "I'd call it preoccupied. Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
Mac pulled out a chair and sat down as she shook her head, "Not particularly." She gave a half-shouldered shrug, "Night terrors - I'd rather forget them."  
  
"That's understandable," Avis could appreciate wanting to forget nightmares. Her own mother hadn't been much help, Avis had turned to her grandmother to learn how to deal the dreams her mind had conjured up. She held up the dress she was working on, "Almost done. Why don't you get cleaned up and we'll see how this fits? Corinna will probably be here in the next couple of hours."  
  
Mac nodded again but made no move to get up. She studied the table top and finally asked quietly, "How do you do it? How can you remain so... so serene knowing what's going to happen? I'm bouncing between anger, fear and guilt so quickly, it's making me dizzy."  
  
Avis let go of an exasperated sigh, "Sarah, look at me." She locked eyes with Mac for a long moment.   
  
Mac leaned back and blinked, then stared at Avis again, "I had no idea... Avis, how... ?"  
  
Shrugging, Avis looked back down at her sewing, "I've learned to present a calm face to the world. People find me scary enough because of my abilities. I don't need to alarm them with emotional outbursts. When I feel the facade slipping, I head for my garden," she grinned and held up the dress, "or I sew. You, on the other hand, apparently need more physical labor." Avis paused a moment in thought, looking down at the dress, "It's not a bad defense. I've used it for years. I never really know when someone's emotions are going to hit me like a sledgehammer. It's easy to get overwhelmed, especially if your own mood is out of control. It's one of the reasons that I stay out here by myself - living in town would make me crazy. Look at Mary Patrick."  
  
Mac's eyes widened, "What?"  
  
"Oh Lord, did I say that out loud?" Avis frowned and glanced up at Mac, "You're a dangerous woman to be around."  
  
Mac ran her hands through her hair in frustration, "You're right and I think that's part of the problem. I shouldn't be here."  
  
"Stop," Avis ordered, "That's not how I meant it. Yes, there is danger, but it's coming whether you're in this house or not. What I meant is what I've said before, you're a catalyst. It's not a bad thing, just a little unnerving at times. I'm normally more circumspect around other people but with you, I keep putting my foot in it." She sat quietly for a few seconds, "Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound..." She drummed her fingers on the table and then said, "I'm the youngest of three surviving children. My grandparents came here when my mother was just fifteen. They're buried on the hillside up behind the barn. This was their home. My mother married when she was seventeen and moved to the other side of town. As I've said before, she hated the gift and rarely spoke to my grandmother." Avis sighed and looked over at Mac, "You have to realize how hard this can be to live with. Mother was subject to fits and eventually my father couldn't take it anymore. He finally left when I was twelve. I was the only one still at home and after a month or so, Momma sent me to live with my grandmother. About a year later, she hung herself."  
  
"Dear God," Mac said softly, "Avis, I'm so sorry."  
  
"Don't be, Sarah, it was years ago and I had my grandparents. I was here quite a bit anyway. I don't honestly remember my mother spending much time with me. She was a tormented, unhappy woman." Avis gave a lopsided smile, "That's part of the reason that Corinna was so aghast that Avril proposed to me. Bad enough that the Payne women are 'different', but who wants to marry into a family that has craziness running through it?"  
  
"I don't understand. One isolated case and your family is thought to be crazy?" Mac frowned, "That seems extreme."  
  
"I suppose it would if my mother were the only one," Avis fell silent, watching Mac carefully.  
  
Mac stared back and then her eyebrows rose, "Mary Patrick?"   
  
"My mother's oldest sister. Although I think losing two sons on the same day could make anyone crazy with grief. Mary Patrick never recovered from it," Avis idly traced a pattern on the table. "Personally, I think part of the reason is Axel, her husband. He's a very forceful man. He's gone from grief to rage to an ugly, smoldering anger. I can't be around him for very long. It's like being inside a huge drum. I can't say that I blame Cousin Sophie for running off with that Yankee officer. It was probably the only way to keep her sanity."   
  
"Annabel told me about Mary Patrick, but she didn't say anything about being related to her," Mac frowned slightly, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to tell Avis that Mary Patrick would one day kill Axel. God only knew what the ramifications would be if Avis somehow managed to stop it.  
  
Avis gave a slight shrug, "This isn't a large town and most people generally stay put. In one hundred and thirty-some-odd years, I imagine everybody will be related to everybody else in one way or another. Your Annabel probably didn't think about it or maybe she didn't know. As far as Axel's concerned, he has no more children. Unless he marries again, there aren't any sons to carry on the McNair name."  
  
Mac sat silently, going over what she'd just learned. She eyed Avis, "So Mary Patrick has 'the gift'?"  
  
"For her, it's more like a curse," Avis replied. She scowled lightly, staring absently at Mac, "Should we ever go into town, stay away from her, Sarah. I get the worst feeling when I think of you two together..." Shaking her head, she stood up and handed the dress over, "Why don't you go get cleaned up and try that on? We need to get ready for Corinna."  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 0930 Local  
  
Mac put down the bucket of water and contemplated the mass of harness. It didn't look like that much when it was actually on Jupiter and Jenna, Avis' sturdy little team of Morgans, but sitting there in a pile... . Oh well, she'd told Avis she'd spend the morning cleaning tack and it looked like it would take the entire time. It had been nine days since Deacon had brought her here and things were settling into a routine. Corinna's visit on the day Avis had told her about Mary Patrick had yielded a surprising quantity of clothes and sundries. So much so, that Corinna had volunteered to help with the alterations. Fortunately, she accepted the explanation that as a member of Russian high society, Mac had never learned how to sew. Mrs. Simpson was due here in the afternoon. Mac figured she could finish the harness and still have time to get cleaned up and into a dress. She'd gone back to wearing pants, at least for the farm chores. Avis hadn't said anything about it but she'd disappeared into the attic and several pairs of trousers had appeared in the sewing pile.   
  
There was a growing civility between the future in-laws, to the point where Avis confessed that she was enjoying Corinna's visits. Even Roger was beginning to skirt around the fringes. Corinna kept them informed on the doings in town, as well as anything she heard on the fighting. Lee had pulled into the trenches of Petersburg; Avril was there and still in good health. He'd survived the hellish fighting during the Wilderness campaign. Mac sent a fervent thank you skyward that Josiah hadn't been there. Grant had lost something like 7,000 men in twenty minutes of fighting at Cold Harbor. Meanwhile, Early and Sheridan continued their dance up and down the Valley, there were skirmishes almost daily. Nothing had been said about destroying the Valley, but Mac knew it had to be starting soon. Avis had done what she could to pass the warning along.  
  
Two days ago, Deacon Turner had stopped by, he was on his way to New Market. Mac gave him a letter to deliver to Col. Rabb and he'd promised to do what he could to see that it reached its destination. It gave her a modicum of comfort thinking that Josiah might soon learn that she was alive and well. The only jarring note this past week had been the unexpected visit of Eudora Dickerson. She'd shown up yesterday while the two of them had been hoeing the truck garden. Roger, once again, had been their first alert. He had burnt the wind streaking past them and howling like a banshee as he left for parts unknown. Mac had given a credible imitation of the cat a few moments later, when she sprinted to the house to get out of her shirt and pants. Although she didn't howl, she did manage to keep up a steady stream of invective while she threw on a dress and fussed with her hair.  
  
It had been a stressful visit. Eudora was a grasping, mean-spirited woman. In a society that gave points for composure, she delighted in emotional upheaval. Her gossip and innuendo were both vicious and petty. Mac had never seen Avis so close to the edge before and had done what she could to deflect the worst of it. She kept a rein on her own temper by directing a steady stream of increasingly colorful Russian epithets at the woman, all delivered with a smile. They had been rescued by the arrival of Corinna. For all her bluster and talk, Eudora was obviously leery of the older woman. She beat a hasty retreat, leaving Mac and Corinna to deal with the aftermath.  
  
With her departure, Avis had become completely distraught, something Mac had never expected to see with the self-possessed young woman. Surprisingly, it was Corinna who stepped in to comfort, shooing Mac off to the kitchen to make tea while she offered Avis a shoulder to cry on. It had taken both of them to get Avis calmed down enough to consent to a nap. Afterwards, Corinna had commandeered the kitchen. Mac found herself on KP, peeling and cleaning vegetables as the older woman prepared a stock pot of soup. After it was simmering, Corinna had left, but not before giving Mac precise instructions on what to do. She promised to be back today with plans for social revenge on the odious Mrs. Dickerson. Mac was curious to see just what that might entail.  
  
Mac broke off from her musings when Roger suddenly appeared in the tackroom doorway. She looked at him in surprise as he went into Halloween cat mode and began hissing and growling. Uneasy, she put down the strap she was cleaning and quietly made her way to the barn door. Peering out, she saw that three horsemen had ridden into the yard. One was dismounted and talking to Avis over in the garden. Uneasiness gave way to alarm when she saw Avis shift into a defensive posture when the second man dismounted and walked up to her. Mac shot a quick look around the barn in frustration. The only weapons on the place were in the house and there was no way to get there without being seen. She could probably slip out the back of the barn but then what? Going for help was out of the question. It would take too long on foot and there was no way she would leave Avis with these three.  
  
She peered back out of the doorway and tensed. All three men were dismounted now, one had Avis by the arm while the other continued to talk to her. The third was headed for the house. Mac pulled back and leaned against the wall. They were looking for her. When they found she wasn't in the house, they'd start searching the outbuildings. She looked around the barn again, she didn't have much time to plan.   
  
********  
  
Avis resolutely attacked the weeds that seemed to proliferate overnight. She was beginning to see what Sarah meant about working off frustration. Losing control yesterday had been mortifying and she was still feeling rattled by it. She jabbed her trowel into the earth with a little more force than necessary, Eudora Dickerson was a hateful, spiteful... Avis took a deep breath, she was doing it again, letting that woman get to her. She sat back on her heels, contemplating the roses and blotting the sweat off her face with the corner of her apron. If there was a silver lining in all this, it was Corinna and Sarah. Corinna Simpson had provided the sort of comfort Avis hadn't experienced since her grandmother died. Sarah had also been sympathetic. When she had managed to get herself somewhat under control again, Avis had been surprised to see Sarah start to grin. With a devilish gleam in her eye, the beautiful brunette translated exactly what she had been saying to Eudora in such a pleasant tone. Even Corinna had begun to laugh. Avis smiled to herself, if she ever got caught with that awful woman again, she'd have to remember some of Sarah's more creative descriptions of Eudora's attributes.   
  
Avis sighed and leaned forward to attack the next group of weeds. She hated feeling off-balance like this. 'Out of whack' was what Sarah called it, an odd expression but apt. According to Sarah, getting things back in balance required giving something or someone a good swift kick. Avis hefted the trowel, she could think of someone to kick. The sound of hoofbeats broke into her reverie and she brought up a hand to shade her eyes as she squinted in the bright sunlight. Three riders, and close enough now that she didn't think she could get into the house. She stood up, wiping her hands on her apron and took a quick glance at the barn. Sarah was still in the tackroom, cleaning harness. Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin and went to greet the men. She didn't have a good feeling about this but maybe she could bluff her way through.  
  
The bad feeling grew worse when she got close enough to recognize two of the men. Shoving her hands into her apron pockets to conceal their trembling, she managed a slight smile as one man dismounted and walked towards her, "Hunter, how nice of you to call. What brings you out this way?"  
  
Hunter Milroy touched the brim of his hat, "Hey, Miss Avis." He gave her a grin that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and gestured for the other men to dismount. "Me an' the boys just thought we'd come visitin'. Hain't seen you in town for a spell." He glanced around the yard, "Hear tell you got some foreign lady stayin' with you. That right?"  
  
Avis nodded wordlessly, her eyes straying to the man who had stopped just behind Milroy. He glanced over his shoulder and his smile grew wider, "You remember ol' Jud, don't you, Miss Avis?"  
  
She stared at him, trying to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. How could she forget Judson Peavey? Two years ago the jackass had gotten liquored up on corn squeezings and burned down his own house. Then he had the audacity to claim that it was her fault, that she had hexed him. It hadn't mattered one whit that no one else in town believed him. After a week of working himself into the right mixture of righteous indignation and drunken anger, he appeared on her place, hellbent on claiming his pound of flesh. Deacon had shown up in the nick of time, with Avril turning up a little later. It turned out that Deacon had had his sons keeping an eye on her place, just in case. Avril had beat the man within an inch of his life and then dumped him on the outskirts of town, promising he would kill Peavey if he ever saw him again.  
  
Peavey smiled at her, his eyes glittering, "Oh, I think she remembers." He swept his gaze around the property, "No darkey to save you this time, is there Miss Avis? I hear he's up around New Market." He fixed his glare on her and Avis tried not to flinch, "And your fiance's stuck down at Petersburg. Ain't that a shame?" He looked over at Milroy, "Quit wastin' time, Hunter. She owes me."  
  
Milroy held up a hand, "Hold your horses, Jud. That foreign gal's around here somewheres. We don't need her runnin' off lookin' for help." He lowered his voice just a little, " 'sides, I hear she's supposed to be good lookin'."   
  
Avis looked at Milroy in alarm, "Hunter, no! Leave her out of this!" She started to move towards the house only to have Peavey grab her arm and hold her in place. A wave of anger, vengeance and lust hit, making her recoil in disgust and fear. Staring at Milroy, Avis forced herself to try again, "Hunter... please!"  
  
Hunter Milroy gave her a slow smile and called over his shoulder, "Stafford? Go search the house."  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1030 Local  
  
Sergeant Fitzgerald knocked on the tent pole and then stuck his head in, "Colonel, sir?"  
  
Rabb didn't bother looking at him. "What?" he asked in a gruff tone, as he continued to write his report of the latest skirmishing. He'd thrown himself into his duties but it was a poor substitute. All his inquiries had met with failure. Sarah, Atkins, Caine and Garrett had vanished off the face of the earth. He'd been sure the sutler would have shown up somewhere, the man had to make a living. Resolutely, he pushed the thought of Sarah away. Her fate was the stuff of his nightmares, he couldn't let himself dwell on it in the daylight hours.  
  
Fitzgerald cleared his throat, "Sir, there's a darkey out here. Says he has a letter for you - from Sarah MacKenzie."  
  
Josiah froze and then turned towards the Sergeant with haunted eyes, "What did you say?" 


	17. Part 17

Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1115 Local  
  
Hunter Milroy saw Stafford come back out on the porch and shrug his shoulders. He glanced over at Miss Avis. Although she was pale, she hadn't shown any other signs of fear, he'd give her credit for grit. Not that it would stop them, but it would add a little more fun to the festivities. "Where is she, Miss Avis?" he inquired mildly.  
  
Avis stared at him silently and then staggered when Peavey backhanded her with his free hand. He hauled her back upright and Milroy noted that she now had a split lip. He clucked his tongue and shook a finger at Peavey, "Judson, I'm surprised at you! That was unmannerly."  
  
Peavey scowled, "Shut up, Milroy." He shook Avis by the arm, "We're wastin' time."  
  
He gulped in surprise when Milroy suddenly closed the distance between them, knife in hand. Hunter glared at him, "Don't ever talk to me like that again, hear?" Peavey's head bobbed up and down nervously, his eyes on the knife. Milroy glanced back at Stafford. Waving his other hand, he called, "Check the other buildings. Start with the barn." He looked over at Avis who still managed to look defiant, despite the blood running down her chin. "We're going to find her, Miss Avis, don't you worry 'bout that."  
  
Stafford entered the dimly-lit barn and stood for moment letting his eyes adjust while he listened. It was silent but for various sounds of the livestock. Quietly, he began his search. He checked each stall, working his way down from one end. When he got to the tackroom, he grunted softly. The half-cleaned harness and bucket of soapy water told him that she'd been here. He stepped out into the aisle and stood for a moment. A wisp of hay fluttered down and he grinned as he looked up towards the hayloft. Stealthily, he moved to the ladder and started to climb. His head had just cleared the loft floor when there was a resounding clang.  
  
Mac lowered the shovel and peered over the edge of the opening. The man was sprawled, unmoving, at the foot of the ladder. Quickly, she climbed down. She stopped about halfway and stared intently at the man. He still hadn't moved, Mac didn't think he was faking. She'd gotten a pretty solid shot and then there was the fall from the ladder. Mac dropped down beside him and took a closer look. Out cold. Grabbing his feet, she dragged him into the tackroom not really caring how often his head banged on the floor. Miserable bastard had it coming - it was obvious that these men thought they'd found an easy target. Pulling down some lead ropes, she quickly trussed him up, using one of the cleaning rags to gag him.  
  
Satisfied he couldn't get loose, Mac relieved him of his pistol, gunbelt and knife. Breaking open the revolver, she checked to make sure it was fully loaded and then snapped it shut. Cautiously, she crept to barn door and looked out. Avis and the two men were still in the yard. Mac glanced up at the loft and then back out in the yard. She'd have a better trajectory from up above but the inaccuracy of pistols in general was still a problem. There was a good chance she'd hit Avis. She needed to get closer but that was impossible without being seen. Dammit, why didn't they move? If they went to the house, she'd have a better chance of taking them out. Trying to come up with a plan that wouldn't get Avis or herself killed, she absently scanned the barn. When her gaze swept over the grain bin, she stopped and came back. Maybe...  
  
Checking outside again, she could see the two men were looking more frequently at the barn. Looking down at the floor, she went over her idea again. If it worked, it would leave her with just one adversary to deal with. It would also make the last man, the most dangerous one. Mac shook her head - if it came down to it, she'd just have to gut it out. Her one hope was the 1800s mindset that discounted women as a real threat. She took a deep breath and let it out, well... no time like the present. She allowed herself a wry grin at the irony of that thought.   
  
Three heads whipped around when a woman's scream was heard, closely followed by a gunshot. Avis felt her knees go weak, oh dear god...  
  
"Damnation!" Hunter stared at the barn, what the hell had Stafford done? He looked over at Peavey and gestured at the barn in exasperation, "Go see what that fool has done now!"  
  
Peavey frowned but didn't say anything. Reluctantly, he let go of Avis and trotted to the barn. He stopped just outside the door and glanced back at Milroy. Receiving another angry 'get on with it' gesture, he pulled out his revolver and cautiously stepped inside. It was hard to see in the barn after the bright sunlight and he came to a halt. He heard a faint rustle off to his right and turned his head to squint in that direction. The shadows were deeper over there, making it even more difficult to see. "Stafford? That you?" he called softly.   
  
He froze in surprise when a woman's voice answered, accompanied by the sound of a revolver being cocked. "Drop the gun and put your hands up," Mac ordered quietly.  
  
For a second or two, it looked like he was going to comply as he stretched his hand out like he was about to drop the pistol. Instead, he dropped into a crouch, spun towards her and fired. Mac hesitated for a split second as she re-centered him in her sights and then pulled the trigger. Her shot caught him just above the right eye and the back of his head exploded outward. Peavey was dead before he hit the floor.  
  
"Dammit," Mac muttered, staring at the body for a moment. She'd hoped to avoid killing anyone. Looking at the barn doors, she steeled herself. It was time for the final act in this little melodrama. She started to tuck her pistol in the back waistband of her trousers and winced. Peavey's shot had nicked her right arm just below the point of her shoulder. It wasn't serious but was enough that it would impede drawing the weapon. Fractions of a second were going to matter, she'd need every advantage she could give herself. With a sigh, she shifted the pistol around for a left-handed draw. Running her hand through her hair to muss it up, she took a deep breath and hit the barn doors at a run.  
  
Hunter jumped at the sound of multiple gunshots inside the barn. He grabbed Avis and shook her, "What the hell is going on?? Who's in there?!" Pulling his revolver out, he yanked Avis closer. This was not how he had planned things.  
  
Avis shook her head soundlessly, she was more baffled than he was. What had happened? Where was Sarah? Her vision exploded with stars when Milroy let go of her arm only to connect solidly with the side of her head. It dropped her to her knees and she couldn't help cringing when he grabbed her by the hair and stuck the gun in her face. "Who else is here, damn you!?!" They both froze when the barn door bounced open and Sarah came out of the barn at a run. She staggered to a halt in the sunlight and looked wildly around. As soon as she saw Avis and Hunter, she reeled towards them, babbling in Russian.  
  
Milroy pulled back in alarm and hauled Avis to her feet, "What the hell is she saying?! Where's Stafford and Jud?"  
  
"I don't know!" Avis' head was ringing and she felt completely bewildered. What was Sarah doing?  
  
Mac steadily closed the distance as she tried to keep an hysterical edge in her voice. Avis was looking considerably worse for wear. The man had her by one arm and was holding a pistol in the other. He wasn't pointing it at either of them yet. Mac hoped to keep it that way. He looked angry and confused but not worried by her approach. Mac began angling slightly to the side, she was almost close enough.   
  
She came to an abrupt halt when he suddenly pointed his revolver at her and yelled, "Quit that yammerin' and speak English, goddammit!"  
  
She winced a little as she swept her arm towards the barn and gasped, "Two men... kill each other... try to kill me!" As she had hoped, he let the gun barrel drop as he turned his head and stared at the barn. What Mac had feared also happened. She wasn't nearly as fast with her left hand and he looked back at her in time to realize what she was doing. They fired almost simultaneously. His shot passed so close to her face that she could feel the breeze on her cheek. Her shot hit him in the chest and he staggered backward. He managed to stay upright and when he dragged his pistol up for another shot, Mac fired again. Milroy collapsed in the dirt. Cautiously, she approached, keeping her pistol trained on him. She kicked the revolver away from his outstretched hand and then knelt down to check for a pulse.  
  
Mac finally let herself relax. Milroy was dead. Wearily, she glanced up at Avis, "Are you all right?" Avis stared at Milroy and slowly shook her head, she couldn't seem to stop trembling. Mac took a closer look, taking in the split lip and ashen face. Damn. She climbed to her feet and moved alongside of the young woman, "Avis? I want you to look at me." She waited until Avis raised her eyes and then said quietly, "It's over. We're going to the house and get you cleaned up and then you're going to lay down for a bit."  
  
Once in the house, Mac got Avis into a chair at the kitchen table and headed for the sink. Pulling out a basin, she pumped water into it, grabbed a towel and went back to Avis. Carefully, she began cleaning away the blood and dust. The young woman watched her, although her gaze seemed somewhat distant. Mac gave her a quiet smile, "It's all over and you're safe. They can't hurt you."  
  
There was a small hitch in Avis' breathing and her stare seemed to focus a little more on Mac, "Peavey?"  
  
Mac frowned a little, "Peavey? Was he the second man?" Avis nodded and Mac looked down at the table, "He's dead. I surprised the damn fool and he tried to shoot it out anyway. I killed him."  
  
"Good."   
  
Mac looked up, surprised at Avis' vehemence. She stared at the young woman and then it clicked, "He was the one Avril and Deacon ran off, wasn't he?"  
  
Avis nodded again and then her face crumpled and she began to sob. Mac gathered her in and let her cry - she needed to get this out. Eventually, Avis wound down and pulled back, wiping at her eyes. She looked at Mac ruefully, "I believe this is the most I've cried in years. You must think I'm an awful baby."  
  
Mac shook her head and smiled, "Considering the last few days, I'd be more worried if you didn't cry."  
  
Avis looked at her for a moment and asked quietly, "What happened in the barn, Sarah? The first man went in and then you screamed and there was a shot. I was so scared. Is he...?"  
  
"He's tied up in your tackroom. I ambushed him with a shovel," Mac gave her an apologetic look, "I'm sorry, I knew it would worry you but I couldn't think of another way to get them into the barn without suspecting a trap. So I screamed... and shot your grain bin."  
  
Avis' eyebrows rose, "You shot my grain bin?" She couldn't help the grin that forced its way out, "Is it dead?"  
  
Mac tried to look solemn, "I'm afraid so, it hasn't moved since."  
  
Avis began to chuckle and then winced, her hand going to her lip. "Ow."  
  
Standing up, Mac grabbed the basin and towel. "Let me get some fresh water for you." She was at the sink when the back door banged open. With an oath, she dropped the basin and dove for the pistol that she'd placed on the table. She came up in a crouch, aiming at the door.  
  
A powerfully built man with black hair and a beard, stood in the doorway holding a shotgun. Mac heard Corinna Simpson's voice yelling 'Don't Shoot!' at the same time that Avis said 'Uncle Axel!' Mac lowered the pistol with a sigh, this was about to get incredibly awkward.  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1030 Local  
  
Tommy blinked, "Sir, I said... "  
  
Rabb cut him off, staring at Fitzgerald intently, "For godsakes, Tommy, get him in here! Now!" Unable to sit, he climbed to his feet, resisting the urge to go out and get the man himself. Whatever he was about to learn, it would be better done in the privacy of his tent. Josiah ruthlessly suppressed any hope that was struggling to make an appearance. A letter didn't necessarily mean that Sarah was still alive.  
  
The tent flap opened and Fitzgerald came in, followed by a tall black man. Rabb put his age somewhere in his fifties. The man came to a halt and regarded Josiah gravely. Rabb was vaguely surprised to see that he seemed neither nervous nor awestruck. The Colonel glanced over at Fitzgerald and snapped, "Dismissed, Sergeant."  
  
Fitzgerald started to protest and then caught the look in Rabb's eyes. With a muttered 'yes sir', he turned and left the tent. Josiah felt a twinge of guilt for treating Tommy that way. Fitzgerald had been nearly as upset about Sarah as he was and just as anxious to learn anything of her. Despite that, Josiah found he couldn't bear the weight of Tommy's sympathy if the news he was about to hear was bad. He would need time to shore up his defenses. He finally looked back to see the black man regarding him patiently. Josiah cleared his throat, "You have a letter?"  
  
Deacon nodded slowly, he could see the man was steeling himself for the worst. "You're Colonel Josiah Rabb?"  
  
"Yes." Josiah didn't trust himself to say more, not with his heart constricting in his chest.  
  
Deacon reached inside his hat and pulled out the letter. Silently, he handed it over. Rabb all but snatched it from his hands, rapidly scanning the contents. Abruptly, he sank onto his cot and re-read it again more slowly. Finally, he looked up and Deacon wasn't surprised to see tears streaming down his face. It was fairly obvious that this man cared deeply about Sarah MacKenzie.  
  
"She's alive," Rabb said it quietly at first, savoring the feeling. He looked up at Deacon and smiled, "She's alive."  
  
"Yes sir, she is," Deacon affirmed with a smile.  
  
Josiah wiped at his face and glanced down at the letter again, "You're Deacon Turner?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Then I owe you a debt of gratitude." Josiah stood up and stuck out his hand. After a brief hesitation, Deacon shook it. Rabb waved him to a chair, "Sit down, I want to hear everything... Just a moment..." He went to the front of the tent and bellowed, "Sergeant Fitzgerald!"  
  
When Fitzgerald appeared, Josiah couldn't help grinning, "Get in here, Tommy. Sarah's alive." Fitzgerald's eyes widened and he looked over at Deacon in surprise. Rabb grabbed Tommy's sleeve and pulled him over towards the cot. "Sit. Mr. Turner is going to tell us what he knows." He looked at Deacon, "When did you last see her?"  
  
"Three days ago, when I stopped by Miss Avis' place to let her and Miss Sarah know I'd be heading up this way. She gave me the letter and I promised I'd do what I could to deliver it." Deacon sat with his hands idly turning his hat over. He was just a shade nervous. Sometimes white folk got all agitated when he sat in their company and he'd found most Yankees to be an unpredictable lot. He wasn't especially worried about the Colonel. The man had told him to sit, after all, and he was too busy concentrating on the subject of Miss Sarah. The sergeant seemed like a rough and tumble sort, though. Deacon had no desire to be stopped later and given a 'lesson' about his place.  
  
"Is she all right?" Josiah remained standing, too anxious to sit.  
  
"Yes sir, she seemed to be feeling much better when I saw her," Deacon nodded. He didn't know what she'd written but he was willing to bet that she glossed over certain facts.   
  
Josiah glanced down at the letter again, "How was she when you found her? All she says in this is that because of Atkins' changing sides, she was able to escape Caine. Was she hurt?"  
  
Deacon rubbed his jaw, apparently Miss Sarah hadn't wanted to upset the Colonel. The question was, should he? He looked from Rabb to Fitzgerald and back again. Deacon took a deep breath, if someone had taken Chandra, he'd want to know everything - good or bad. "I was on my way home from Strasburg and I was giving Thomas Simpson a ride home as well when we came across a burnt out wagon and two bodies - a man and woman. The man was dead and we thought the woman was dying. It looked like they'd both been shot." He paused for a moment when Rabb suddenly sat down.  
  
"Sarah was shot?"  
  
Deacon gave a slight smile, "Well, yes and no. The man was shot and Miss Sarah told us later that she'd been standing behind him. She got hit by the same bullet. It had enough force left to knock her down but it didn't go through." He shook his head, "I suppose it was like getting walloped by a mighty big stick. For a while, she couldn't hardly move. I couldn't see leaving her there, so me and Thomas put her in the wagon and took her with us. I dropped her off with Miss Payne. Miss Avis is fine Christian woman and smart as a whip. I knew she'd take good care of Miss Sarah and figure a way to keep folks from finding out she was a Yankee, too. No offense, Colonel," he added quickly.  
  
Josiah waved a hand, intrigued by what he was hearing, "What did your Miss Avis do?"  
  
Deacon chuckled, "When she found out Miss Sarah spoke Russian, she told everyone that Miss Sarah was a friend of hers from Europe - that she was the daughter of a Russian diplomat. The good ladies of town have been falling over themselves to meet her."  
  
"Where is she, Mr. Turner?" Josiah couldn't help smiling, Sarah was alive and well!  
  
"Keezletown, sir, in the foothills of Massanutten Mountain," Deacon was puzzled when the Colonel's smile faltered, "Are you all right, Colonel?"  
  
"What? Oh... yes," Josiah stood and offered his hand once again to Deacon, "Thank you for all you've done. I'm truly grateful. Sergeant, make sure Mr. Turner gets back through our lines without any trouble." As politely as he could he ushered the two men out of his tent, earning a bewildered look from Fitzgerald just before he left. Once they were gone, he sank into the chair and leaned forward, resting his face in his hands. Sarah was near Massanutten and the White Horse Tavern. She was going to try to go home and then he'd never see her again. Dammit! He climbed to his feet and began to pace. Somehow, he had to see her and do his best to convince her that she could have a life in this century - with him. 


	18. Part 18

JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA 0840 Local  
  
"Admiral?"   
  
"Yes, Tiiner?" Chegwidden punched the intercom button and kept reading the file in front of him. With a little luck, he'd clear his desk and get an early start on his weekend with Meredith.  
  
"Sir, there might be a problem with Judiciary this morning."  
  
Chegwidden stopped reading, "Either there's a problem or there's not. Which is it?"  
  
There was a brief silence and AJ sighed. Definitely a problem. He rested his forehead on his hand and looked at the intercom, "What is it, Tiner?"  
  
"Sir, Admiral Morris called. Col. MacKenzie's due on the bench at 0900 and she's not there."  
  
AJ raised his head and scowled, "What do you mean, 'she's not there'? Where is she?"  
  
"I don't know, Admiral, I can't find her. I've looked everywhere."  
  
What the hell? "Define everywhere, Tiner."  
  
"I checked with security, Gunny Walters says she never logged in this morning. Her answering machine keeps picking up at her apartment and I'm only getting the voice mail on her cellphone."  
  
Chegwidden rubbed his jaw, "Keep trying her phones, Tiner, and keep me posted. I talked with the Colonel last evening. She had to drive in from the Shenandoah Valley, it's possible she's just running late."  
  
"Yes sir... Sir?" Tiner hesitated for a moment, "Should I call the State Highway Patrol?"   
  
AJ started to say no and then stopped. It was probably jumping the gun to start thinking in that direction. Technically, Mac wasn't even late... yet. On the other hand, if she had had problems on the drive back, it would have happened last night. The sooner someone started looking, the better. Damn... He had a thought, "Tiner, check with the motor pool first and see if the Colonel turned in her car. Oh, and get me Admiral Morris." If they were going to have to do some juggling, it would be better not to wait. And if it turned out that the Colonel had merely overslept, he and Morris would have her ass.  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1235 Local  
  
Axel looked from his niece to the foreign woman he'd been hearing so much about. After a week of listening to the ladies of the town gush over her elegance, it was hard to reconcile that image with this disheveled and decidedly dangerous looking woman wearing men's clothes. She had looked quite ready to shoot him, it was obvious that she was familiar with guns. Avis, on the other hand, looked like she'd been on the losing side of a brawl. Slowly lowering the shotgun, he decided to focus on his niece and ignore the foreigner altogether. "Avis, are you all right?"  
  
Corinna pushed past him before Avis could answer and stopped short, "Merciful heavens!"  
  
Mac tensed while Corinna stared at them both for several long seconds. Her eyes widened in surprise when Corinna whirled back towards Axel and glared at him, "She most obviously is not all right, Axel McNair. I daresay neither of them are." She pointed out of the room, "There's nothing for you to do here, why don't you go help Thomas?" She folded her arms and stared at him until he finally shrugged his shoulders and left. Corinna waited until the door had shut before turning back to the two women. She gestured towards a chair, "Sit down, Sasha, and put that gun away before you accidently shoot someone."  
  
"Corinna! That's not fair," Avis protested, "If it hadn't been for Sa... Sasha, I wouldn't be here."  
  
Corinna's expression softened, "So I've guessed and, believe me, I'm truly grateful. When Thomas ran into town to tell me he'd seen Judson Peavey and Hunter Milroy riding in this direction, I was terrified. I remember what Peavey tried to do two years ago." She glanced over at Mac who still hadn't moved, "Sit down, Sasha. You look like you need to. I'm going to put some water on for tea."  
  
Mac glanced at Avis and then settled carefully in a chair, watching Corinna bustle around the kitchen. Once the fire was going in the stove and the kettle was on, Corinna retrieved the basin and put more water in it. Setting it on the table along with several towels, she headed to Avis' sewing basket and retrieved a pair of scissors. Dragging a chair around, she sat next to a startled Mac and gestured briskly at her, "Let me see that arm."  
  
Avis stared at Mac, "You were hurt? I didn't... I'm so sorry, I should have seen... "  
  
"It's barely a scratch and you have not been in any condition to notice. Please don't apologize. Ow!" Mac turned and glared at Corinna, "Sukin syn! Are you trying to pull it off at the shoulder?"  
  
"If that's what it takes to get you to pay attention, young lady," Corinna said as she began cutting away the sleeve. She pulled away the material to reveal a shallow gouge that went diagonally across Mac's upper arm. It started low by her triceps and finished up by the shoulder.  
  
Mac tried to get a better look at it, only to be shooed away. She gave Corinna an indignant stare, "It's my arm."  
  
"And look what you did to it." Corinna was unperturbed, "You were blocking my light." She dipped a towel in the water, wrung it out and started wiping away the dried blood. "It looks like it's stopped bleeding." She continued to dab at it, making Mac grit her teeth. It might not be anything more than a scratch but it was still sore. Corinna continued to concentrate on the wound and then asked quietly, "So it was you, Sasha, who killed Hunter and Peavey?"  
  
"Yes," Mac ground out and then breathed a sigh of relief when Corinna finally released her arm, "The third man is tied up in the tackroom."  
  
Corinna's eyebrows rose, "There was a third?" She was quiet for a moment and Mac tensed. Finally, Corinna asked, "Are all Russian ladies so capable with a gun?"  
  
Mac glanced over at Avis and then shook her head, "No, my uncle taught me to shoot. He's in the military."  
  
"I see," Corinna paused, eyeing Avis, and then looked at the two of them, "I think you both better tell me the whole story, if you can. No one will say anything about Peavey, but Hunter has family and friends here. I would just as soon head off any trouble before it gets started."  
  
Mac leaned back with a sigh and rubbed her eyes. Suddenly she was feeling very tired. In the back of her mind, she knew there'd be repercussions... there were always repercussions. Dropping her hand, she took a quick look at Avis. The young woman had her eyes fixed on the tabletop. Mac looked back at Corinna and took a deep breath, "I was in the tackroom... "  
  
Ten minutes later, Mac listened as Avis told her side of the story. When she got to the part about Stafford going into the house to search for 'the foreign lady', Corinna interrupted her, "His name was Stafford? Timothy Stafford?"  
  
Avis shook her head slowly and carefully. She was beginning to develop a massive headache, "I don't know, they only called him Stafford. Do you know him?"  
  
The anger that suffused Corinna's face was surprising. "If it's Timothy Stafford, he's a cousin of Eudora Dickerson. He came to work for Eudora's husband with their freighting company about a year ago. She brags on him constantly."  
  
"You don't think she had anything to do with this, do you?" Avis looked shocked.  
  
"No, but I wouldn't put it past her to start trouble with Milroy's family as soon as this gets out," Corinna stated flatly.  
  
"But why? What would she gain? It doesn't make sense," Avis rubbed her forehead and grimaced.  
  
"Causing trouble with the Milroys would take attention away from Stafford, assuming this is her cousin," Mac glanced at Corinna for confirmation.  
  
The older woman shook her head, "She's more devious than that. I'll lay odds that Stafford's story will somehow manage to blame you, Sasha. Probably some idiotic tale about Avis' foreign guest going berserk and ambushing them with a gun."  
  
Mac stared at Corinna in disbelief, "That's the most ridiculous... Why would anyone believe a story like that?"   
  
Corinna gave her a grim look, "Folks would rather blame a stranger than one of their own. Besides, who'd believe one unarmed woman would successfully defend herself against three men and ultimately kill two of them?" Silence followed that remark for several long minutes. Finally, Corinna stood up, "Well, I'll make sure Axel and Thomas know the truth and then we'll just have to wait and see. We may be worrying over nothing." She moved over to Avis, "You, young lady, are going to lay down. I believe I'll stay on for a spell. I'll have Thomas come fetch me this evening."  
  
Mac got up also and moved to assist Corinna, "I'll sit with her, Corinna. She shouldn't be left alone."   
  
Corinna raised an eyebrow, "You will not. You're going to lie down as well. I'll keep an eye on both of you."  
  
JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA 1330 Local  
  
"That will be all, dismissed." Chegwidden raised his eyebrows and sighed when everyone continued to watch him expectantly. He had called for a staff meeting to redistribute the workload. By now, word of the Colonel's disappearance was all over the office. Her government car had never been turned in, her 'vette was still at the motor pool. The State Patrol had reported numerous accidents. There'd been a ferocious storm in the Blue Ridge Mountains last night. Power was out in a wide area, phone lines were down, clean-up and repairs were ongoing. Fortunately, or unfortunately - depending on how you looked at it, none of the reported accidents had involved government vehicles or military personnel. It was a relief to know Mac hadn't been in a crash; on the other hand, she seemed to have vanished. Jen Coates had gone to her apartment and gotten the landlord to open it up. There was no sign that the Colonel had been home the night before.  
  
"Admiral?" Sturgis, apparently, had been elected spokesperson, "Have you heard anything else about Colonel MacKenzie?"  
  
AJ shook his head, "Nothing as yet. The State Patrol is still searching."  
  
"Do they even know where to look, sir?" Bud asked, his frustration was evident, "Her last known location was Palos. There must be a dozen routes Colonel MacKenzie could have taken to get through the mountains."  
  
Chegwidden fixed him with a glare, "If you've got a better idea, Mr. Roberts, I'm willing to listen."  
  
Sturgis jumped back in, "Sir? Has anyone considered the possibility of... well, foul play? The Colonel has been involved in a number of high-profile cases."  
  
"It's a little early to be heading in that direction, Commander," AJ stood up and the staff came to their feet as well. "It's time to get to work. I'll keep you apprised of any new information." He turned around and left the room. As he passed through the outer office, he looked over at Tiner, "Get Clayton Webb on the phone, Tiner."  
  
"Yes sir!" Jason found himself talking to the door of the Admiral's office. Shaking his head, he picked up the phone.  
  
AJ walked to one of the windows. Folding his arms, he stared outside. What the hell had happened to Mac? Heaven help him, right now, he was even willing to hear she'd been in an accident if it meant finding her. Even though he'd dismissed Sturgis' concern in front of the staff, it didn't mean it hadn't occurred to him; that it wasn't scaring the hell out of him. Goddammit! They'd had at least six months of normal JAG business. Well... as normal as life could be considering his top officers' penchant for trouble, as well as the world being the way it was. Surely that was long enough to preclude some nut wanting to settle a score with the Colonel.  
  
Hopefully, Webb would be able to confirm or discount anything deliberate. AJ frowned, he had also better be able to prove he wasn't somehow involved. Mac wouldn't just disappear on one of Webb's ops without notifying him - unless no one had given her a chance. Turning back to his desk, Chegwidden sat down heavily. The next crisis would manifest itself in approximately 44 hours if Mac didn't turn up. Rabb would be back from his assignment.  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1335 Local  
  
Josiah dismissed his staff and then motioned Fitzgerald in, "Did Mr. Turner have any problems, Tommy?"  
  
"No sir," Fitzgerald hesitated a moment, "Sir, I ran him past the quartermaster and gave him a couple of sacks of coffee, salt and sugar. I figured it was the least we could do."  
  
Rabb eyed him for a moment and then shook his head with a wry grin, "Thank you, Sergeant. I was remiss in my hospitality."  
  
"It was quite a shock, sir," Fitzgerald offered carefully. The Colonel had been unpredictably volatile on the subject of Sarah MacKenzie. "If I may, sir, did she say she was coming back?"  
  
"No, she did not. ...I imagine it's probably difficult to arrange transportation," Josiah sighed, he couldn't very well tell Fitzgerald that Sarah wouldn't be back because she was trying to return to the 21st century.   
  
"Are you going to try to bring her back, sir?" Fitzgerald was even more tentative. He knew Josiah had strong feelings, but he wasn't quite as sure about Mac. Oh, he was pretty sure she was somewhat in love but whatever it was that was bothering Sarah had also kept her from committing herself completely to the Colonel. Tommy was beginning to suspect that Josiah knew what the problem was and had decided to overcome it by direct assault.   
  
Rabb stared at him for a long moment and Tommy tried not to fidget. He had no doubts that Josiah would willingly scuttle his career and risk his life to retrieve Sarah. Probably the only thing holding him back was the danger to her; that would be something he would not risk.  
  
"No, not yet, Tommy," Josiah gestured towards his desk, "Orders have come through, we're on our way to Winchester. After that, we'll see where we stand." Reports had confirmed that the Rebel army was concentrating in that area and Sheridan was finally becoming more aggressive. Word through the grapevine was that Grant had come up and given Little Phil a proverbial kick in the pants. It was probably too much to hope for that they could hand Early a resounding defeat and take control of the Valley. It would make getting to Sarah much easier - and safer - for both of them. He looked over at Fitzgerald, "Start getting things ready, Sergeant, we'll be moving before dawn."  
  
After Tommy left, Josiah sat down at his desk again and pulled out Sarah's letter. He hadn't really had time to digest everything. Five minutes after he had pushed Fitzgerald and Turner out of his tent, a courier had come in with orders for Winchester. That had necessitated gathering his staff to organize the issuing of orders for rations and ammunition, coordinating baggage wagons and making sure his brigade would be in the right place at the right time for the order of march. Now, perhaps, he could steal some time for himself and try to decide on a course of action. He re-read the letter again. Sarah barely touched on the events of the kidnapping and skipped any mention of injuries. Instead, she had concentrated on the good fortune that had placed her with Deacon Turner and Avis Payne. Apparently, this Miss Payne was rather special. She'd figured out, almost from the beginning, that Sarah was not from this time. Incredibly, not only did this not throw her, the woman had come up with a plan to get Sarah back to her century. Josiah decided he didn't much like Avis Payne. Sarah had closed the letter telling him how special he was to her, that she would miss him and that if he did anything foolish and got himself killed, she'd kick his six. He re-read that part again and smiled. Just from the context, he could guess what a 'six' was. He leaned back in his chair, thinking. What she'd written was a farewell. Obviously, she didn't believe there was any way for him to reach her before this Miss Avis' plan went into effect. Well, he would prove her wrong.  
  
Leave was probably out of the question, not with the campaign finally heating up. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, there weren't a lot of options open to him. First, though, he needed to get through the coming battle. Josiah didn't think Early could win - he was badly outnumbered and he simply wasn't of the caliber of a Lee or Jackson. However, he was canny enough not to let his entire command be annihilated or captured. If Sheridan stayed aggressive, Josiah was hoping to take advantage. He would try to attach himself to one of the cavalry commands on the premise of getting a first-hand look at terrain he would eventually be fighting over. It was unorthodox and unusual and he intended to call in as many favors and twist whatever arms he needed to, in order to make it work. The cavalry units were ranging up and down the Valley, keeping the Rebs busy. He would find the command that was heading towards Harrisonburg and go along. From there, it wouldn't be far from Keezletown. It wasn't the best plan he'd ever come up with but he'd just have to try. If all else failed, he would simply resign. 


	19. Part 19

Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 0730 Local  
  
Mac looked up as Avis walked into the kitchen. Despite being an early riser herself, it had been rare when she beat Avis out of bed. Going back to sipping her tea, she nodded towards the stove, "Water's hot." She eyed the young woman thoughtfully as Avis fixed herself a cup of tea. "I think you should go back to bed and rest today. You look like the morning after."  
  
Avis frowned as she carefully lowered herself into a chair, "I don't know what that means."  
  
Mac leaned forward, "It means you shouldn't be up. Does your head still hurt?"  
  
"A little," Avis said defensively, "I am not lazing about in bed. There's too much to do around here and you were hurt as well."  
  
"Already healing, it only aches a little. I can do the chores for a day," Mac tilted her head and grinned, "Besides, AnnieSue and I have developed a rapport."   
  
AnnieSue was Avis' temperamental Guernsey cow. She had very little patience with fumble-fingered beginners. Sarah's first solo attempt had ended in a face-off, with cow and human exchanging blistering commentaries on each other's mental capacities. At least, that's what it had sounded like to Avis who had practically collapsed in fits of laughter. She'd never heard AnnieSue get so vocal. Of course, the cow had never had so many languages directed at her. Sarah had swung from English to Russian to what must have been Farsi and back again. Even though Avis didn't speak either of the other languages, she was pretty sure Sarah had stayed with a common theme: steak.  
  
Avis peered at Mac from over the rim of her mug, "Uh-huh, and how's your rapport with the chickens?"  
  
Mac rolled her eyes, "I can handle Attila the Hen. I was just surprised that chickens were carnivorous." She smiled sweetly at Avis, "How about roast chicken for dinner tonight?"  
  
"Don't you dare," Avis couldn't help smiling as well, "She's my best layer... and her name is Mabel. Honestly, she's just a chicken."  
  
"I saw her catch and eat a mouse! She bullies the barn cats, annoys the horses and, I swear, she's stalking me." Mac managed to look affronted.  
  
Avis chuckled and then winced, "Maybe she likes you."  
  
"Probably as a snack." Mac stood up and gestured to Avis, "Up. You're going back to bed and I don't want to see hide nor hair of you before noon. Argue and I'll sic the chicken on you."   
  
Avis put up a token resistance for form's sake, but she was actually relieved to be able to lie down again for a few hours. The longer she'd been up, the worse she was feeling. "I'm not spending the entire day in bed," she still muttered rebelliously as Sarah arranged the covers around her.  
  
"We'll see," Mac replied quietly, Avis' eyes were already closing. Slipping out of the room, she headed down the stairs to get started on the day.  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1530 Local  
  
Mac shaded her eyes and then smiled and waved as Deacon Turner came down the driveway. It had been four days since Milroy and his cronies had paid their visit. Despite Corinna's misgivings, public opinion had come down firmly on the side of Avis and herself. No matter what story Stafford spun, it remained that he'd been found trussed up in Avis' barn and Mac had used his pistol on the other two men. The fact that the two women had been injured lent credence to the claim of self defense. Both Axel and Corinna made sure to hammer the truth home at every opportunity. Far from blaming the foreigner, the townspeople's admiration had grown. Avis' guest had shown the grit and pluck of a true Southern Belle. A bemused Corinna had delivered the news yesterday that a ball was planned in Mac's honor. She was to consult with the two ladies on the state of their recovery and let the organizers know what would be an acceptable date.  
  
As far as Mac was concerned, that date would be sometime in 2003. Knowing she'd have to attempt to maintain the charade in front of the entire town scared the hell out of her. She still had a few days' reprieve, Avis had no intention of attending a ball with bruises on her face. Oddly, she hadn't objected to the idea. Mac could only hope that that meant her 'gift' approved and not that it was napping. Shaking her head, she put those thoughts aside and walked over to greet Deacon.  
  
Deacon smiled as he climbed down from the wagon, "Hey, Miss Sarah." He raised his voice when he saw Avis come out of the house, "Hey Miss Avis." He looked at Mac again, "Are you all right? Chandra told me what happened while I was gone." He lowered his voice slightly as he watched Avis coming towards them, "Is Miss Avis all right? That Peavey's given her nightmares before." He saw the look on Mac's face and hurried to explain, "Chandra came over and stayed with her for a spell that first time."  
  
"Deacon! Welcome back," Avis smiled as she walked up to them. "Come up to the house. We might as well be comfortable while we catch up on the news."  
  
"Thank you, Miss Avis. Just a moment... " he turned back to the wagon, "I have some supplies for y'all."  
  
Curious, Mac and Avis walked to the side of the wagon with him. Avis' eyes widened in surprise, "Deacon, this is too much. I can't accept this."  
  
Deacon grinned, "I'm afraid you'll have to, Miss Avis. These here are for Miss Sarah from Sergeant Fitzgerald."  
  
Mac's heart jumped a little at Tommy's name. Deacon had done it, he gotten her letter to Josiah. Resolutely, she suppressed all the questions that were trying to force their way out. She could wait until they were seated. Instead, Mac looked longingly at the sack of coffee, "Deacon, you should keep this. You went to all the trouble of delivering my letter."  
  
Turner chuckled, "I already dropped off my share at home. This is yours. I may be a generous man but not that generous!" In short order, the sacks were brought in and a pot of coffee was started on the stove. Deacon seated Avis and Sarah and then sat down himself. Folding his hands, he looked from one to the other, "What happened?"  
  
Mac glanced at Avis. The young woman sat with her lips pressed in a thin line. Except for that one time with Corinna, she had absolutely refused to discuss anything that had happened to her. Since Milroy and Peavey hadn't had enough time to do more than hit her, Mac assumed it had to do with the emotional assault. Avis was sensitive to strong emotions and contact only enhanced it. Occasionally, Mac had dwelt on the ramifications of what that sensitivity could be like with... say, Harm. On days like that, she usually wound up putting in an extraordinary amount of labor around the farm. It was that or dunking herself in the water trough.  
  
However, having to endure the emotions of men who wanted to do God knows what, while your senses were already heightened by fear must have been nearly overwhelming. Mac clearly remembered the fear she felt around Ezra Caine, To have to feel his emotions of lust, hate and anger, as well, was unimaginable. She knew, at some point, Avis would have to talk about it. She also understood Avis' need to retain some sort of control by bottling it up inside. It was a technique she'd perfected early in her life and she was still paying for the consequences. Mac didn't want that for Avis. Last night, while they sat on the porch and watched the sunset, Mac had begun laying the groundwork for chipping down the wall. She'd enlisted Corinna to help in the endeavor. They had agreed that an oblique approach would probably be best.  
  
Mac looked back at Deacon, "It started when that svoloch', Milroy rode up with his two friends... "   
  
When she had finished, Deacon leaned back in his chair, "Lord Almighty!" He shook his head, "God does move in mysterious ways." When he saw both Avis and Sarah looking at him curiously, he smiled, "You don't see God's hand in this?" He pointed at Mac, "You're taken by a man who had a change of heart and saved you at the expense of his own life. He brought you to a place where I could find you and I brought you here. And if you hadn't been here, Miss Avis most likely would have died. This is God's work."  
  
Mac stared at him, "I killed two men. I'd say that flies in the face of 'Thou shalt not kill'. I don't think God's all that happy with me." She looked down at the table and grimaced slightly. Talk about suppression. She hadn't really dealt with the taking of two lives either, pushing it to the side while coping with more immediate concerns.  
  
Avis finally spoke up, her expression compassionate, "Sarah, those men didn't give you a choice. You were trying not to kill them. God knows that, I'm sure."  
  
Deacon nodded, "Miss Sarah, those men had a choice too. They chose Satan and death. Don't you fret about it anymore."  
  
"Thank you," Mac said quietly, and meant it. These people had a deep, abiding faith and it made her feel a trifle envious. Religion hadn't played a large part in her childhood. There were times when she had been sure God simply didn't exist. The priest at the hospice where her father died had done more than he knew in restoring her faith. Sometimes she felt it was like a huge, incomplete puzzle and every kind, decent person she met was contributing a piece.  
  
Avis patted her hand and then rose from the table to fetch the coffee pot. After pouring each of them a cup, she went to the pie safe and pulled out a platter of sweetcakes. Putting them in the center of the table, she sat back down and gave Mac a wicked grin before turning an innocent look to Deacon, "So, Mr. Turner, what was Colonel Josiah Rabb like? Keep in mind, we'd like every detail."  
  
With her mouth hanging open, Mac stared at Avis, before turning a wide-eyed look at Deacon. He looked back at her with a grin and she could feel her face turning red. Covering her eyes with a hand, she growled softly in Avis' direction, "You're toast!"  
  
Avis smiled benignly, she enjoyed hearing these odd expressions, "Is that bad?" She put a hand on Mac's shoulder while looking at Deacon, "Mr. Turner? We're waiting... "  
  
Chegwidden's Home McLean, VIrginia 0930 Local  
  
"AJ? I'm here." Meredith stepped into the house and listened. When she heard 'In the kitchen', she smiled and headed that way. Entering, she found AJ standing by the stove. He leaned over for a quick kiss and went back to his cooking. Meredith peered into the pan, "Mmmm, omelets." She held up the bag she was carrying, "Fresh bagels."  
  
"Great, just put them on the table. There's fresh coffee in the pot."  
  
"SEAL coffee? No, thank you." Meredith gave a mock shudder and then grinned, "I brought a mocha latte for myself." She settled at the table and watched him putter about the stove.  
  
AJ glanced over his shoulder and smiled, "You're awfully quiet."  
  
She smiled in return, "Just admiring the view. Go back to your cooking."  
  
"Yes ma'am." Meredith continued to smile as he turned back. She'd been truly blessed to have found a man like AJ. Strength, integrity, compassion and a romantic at heart, with enough courage to take another chance at love. Several months ago, Tiner had mentioned a Dr. Walden in passing and then immediately clammed up. She had zeroed in on Harriet as the easiest source of information and hadn't been disappointed. Meredith had mixed feelings about Sydney Walden. On one hand, she felt like slapping the woman for being so obtuse and treating AJ so shabbily. Honestly, letting her son manipulate her like that and then breaking up by letter! ... On the other hand, she could kiss her for making AJ available again.  
  
Meredith sipped her coffee, The one she really owed was Sarah MacKenzie. She had never been able to pin the Colonel down to find out if it had been a set-up. It seemed like too much of coincidence that the Admiral would be an avid admirer of Shakespeare. He'd thought so too, if their first meeting was any indication. AJ had only recently told her in detail about the borderline dressing down he'd received from his obviously irate Chief of Staff. That had led to his apology and now, here they were. Meredith scowled, the question was, where was Sarah MacKenzie?  
  
AJ slid the omelets onto a pair of plates and put them on the table. Seeing Meredith frowning, he ran his hand over his head, "Meredith, I am sorry about ruining the weekend. I know you were looking forward to it."  
  
Startled, Meredith shook her head, "Don't be silly, AJ. How could I enjoy myself while worrying about Mac?" When he seated himself, she reached over and put a hand on his forearm, "Have you heard anything new?"  
  
"Nothing." AJ scowled in frustration.  
  
"Does Harm know yet?" Meredith decided to jump in with both feet.  
  
"God, no! I'm not even sure how to go about telling him. He's not due back until tomorrow morning," AJ rubbed his face, "He'll go ballistic. I'm going to have a helluva time keeping him from traipsing all over the Blue Ridge Mountains."  
  
"Would that be a bad thing?"  
  
"Meredith, I was short-handed before Mac disappeared. I don't need him out there, I need him at JAG." He looked at her in exasperation.  
  
"But what if he can find her? Didn't she find him in the ocean? Maybe he can do the same." Meredith decided that this would be reasonable - a sort of cosmic tit for tat.  
  
AJ stared at her, "I don't think it works that way. Hell, I don't think Mac knows how it works." He stared off in the distance for a moment, "It was the damnedest thing, though." He sighed and picked up his fork, "The Sheriff's Department and the Highway Patrol are doing the best they can."   
  
Meredith frowned slightly, there was an odd note in his voice. She gave him a reassuring smile, "They'll find her, AJ. That's a lot of ground they have to cover and they haven't been looking that long."  
  
"I know. I keep telling myself that, but what if she's been in some sort of accident? What if she's been injured? It's been over 36 hours since I talked to her. Anything could have happened!" AJ jabbed angrily at his food.  
  
And there's the rub, Meredith thought to herself. "AJ," she said as gently as she could, "this isn't your fault."  
  
"Isn't it? I ordered her back here that night. Her interview had been irritating and long. She was tired and on edge, I could hear it in her voice. She told me that she planned on spending the night. Did I listen? No. I told her she had to be on the bench at 0900 Friday morning and that was that." Putting down his fork, he pushed back from the table and fell silent.  
  
Meredith thought it over for a minute or so and then folded her arms, "I don't understand."  
  
AJ looked over at her, "What?"  
  
"How you can blame yourself without having any idea what has actually happened. You did say that power and phone lines were down in that area, didn't you?" He nodded. "And you don't think of Mac as being particularly stupid, do you?"  
  
"Of course not!"  
  
"Well, I can't imagine that she would attempt to drive through the Blue Ridge Mountains during a nasty thunderstorm, can you?" He shook his head and Meredith smiled, "So how do you know she's not stranded at some little motel or someone's house in the mountains without the means to communicate?"  
  
He stared at her for a long moment and a faint smile tugged at his lips, "I don't."  
  
Meredith leaned forward and propped her chin in her hand, "You know what I feel like doing today?"  
  
AJ blinked at the sudden change of subject, "I... uhh... no... no, I don't."  
  
She gave him her best smile, "I feel like going on a scenic drive, say... the Shenandoah Valley? I hear it's gorgeous." 


	20. Part 20

Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1342 Local  
  
Mac looked at Avis as they moved briskly along in the buggy, "Tell me again why it's necessary to show up four hours and eighteen minutes before this soiree is going to start?"  
  
Avis arched an eyebrow. Sarah's time sense was normally a source of wonder but, at the moment, it was just annoying. "It takes time to prepare for a ball. Corinna is going to help." She took her eyes off Jenna and Jupiter and looked over at Sarah, "There's nothing to be nervous about. You did say you'd been to a ball before and you know how to waltz. Being from Russia, no one will think twice if you don't know any other dances."  
  
Mac looked out at the scenery going by. She'd never been in a horse-drawn vehicle like this before and had surprised by the power and speed produced by those equine hindquarters. It was a whole different feel from riding. Finally, she looked back at Avis, "I guess it's being the center of attention that's bothering me. What if I screw up? The consequences will affect you and Corinna."  
  
Avis frowned slightly, she was getting better at deciphering these phrases that Sarah came out with. Fortunately, the brunette was more careful of her speech when others were around. Even on that awful day, Sarah had maintained the light Russian accent when talking to Corinna. She sighed, "You're not going to... screw up. No one is going to be looking that closely. People are terribly impressed with you, they'll see what they expect to see." Avis grinned, "Besides, it's a good excuse for a party."  
  
"Are you going to be all right in a crowd of people like that? Won't it be overwhelming?" Mac wished she could get rid of this nagging feeling that something bad was going to happen. It was probably just anxiety about meeting the townspeople, en masse. Avis was much more sensitive about such things and she was absolutely buoyant.  
  
Avis shook her head, smiling, "Parties are easier to deal with. For the most part, people are happy and intent on enjoying themselves. It's actually quite pleasant." She patted Mac's arm, "It will be fun, you'll see."  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1540 Local  
  
Corinna and Avis stepped back and critically surveyed their work. Mac looked at them nervously, trying not to twist her hands together, "Well?"   
  
The two ladies looked at each other and then back at her. Corinna smiled, "You are a vision, my dear."  
  
"Try walking," Avis suggested. Sarah had never worn a hoop skirt before and it took some getting used to. Corinna had accepted their assertion that hoop skirts were no longer in fashion in Europe, saying that she'd heard rumors to that effect several years ago. She had offered earlier to alter a ball gown for Sasha and then surprised them with a lovely white silk dress. It had three deep white flounces, each alternating with a blue flounce. The same theme was followed in the drapery at the top of the bodice and onto the sleeves. They'd pulled her hair back into a small, low bun and had a wreath of blue flowers for a headdress. White kid gloves and dangling earrings completed the outfit.  
  
Mac took a few tentative steps and Corinna shook her head, "You're bouncing. It's more like gliding. Keep your hips straight and only slightly bend your knees. You want to skim the floor." It took a few more turns about the room before she was satisfied.  
  
Mac gave a small sigh and shifted, the corset was more than a little snug. She looked down at the large expanse of skirt, "How do you sit?" She had visions of Carol Burnett's priceless parody of Gone With The Wind. It was funny on TV, but she had no desire to make a spectacle of herself by having the hoop bounce up in the air.  
  
Avis raised an eyebrow, "Carefully and only after a great deal of practice, otherwise the skirt will come up, exposing everything. Bending forward can have the same effect. You might be safer to stay standing." She glanced over at Corinna and the older woman nodded.   
  
The two women advanced on Mac who backed up a step, "Now what?"  
  
"You've never danced wearing a hoop skirt, have you?" Avis inquired, raising her eyebrows innocently. Mac shook her head.   
  
Corinna said, "You need to remember that it's rather easy to step on a hoop if you're moving backwards. It's also easy to knock someone else over, watch your distance."  
  
"Maybe I shouldn't dance at all," Mac looked dismayed. She had no idea it could be so difficult.  
  
"Nonsense," Avis moved to her back and began unfastening buttons, "It wouldn't be a dance without a few collisions, someone breaking into tears and a possible fistfight." She made it seem matter of fact, "Now we take this off and we'll all lie down and rest for an hour or so. It's going to be a long night."  
  
Mac stared from one to the other, "You just got me into all this and now you want me to take it all off?"  
  
"Just the dress," Corinna stated, "Now that everything else is done, it won't take long to put it all back together again. And you can loosen the corset. Do it gradually though, I've seen more young ladies faint from removing it too quickly."  
  
Mac stared at the older woman, "You're joking. Fainting from taking off a corset?"  
  
Avis nodded in confirmation, "From taking it off too quickly. Don't ever get sick while wearing one either. It's an experience you don't want to have."   
  
Shaking her head, Mac let them get the dress off. Getting ready for a dance was a lot more complicated in this century.  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1740 Local  
  
Mac looked at Avis and Corinna. They had been right, it hadn't taken that much time to get back into the dresses. Avis was wearing a steel-blue dress of tarlatane trimmed with black velvet. It had three skirts trimmed with ribbon and edged with broad and narrow black velvet. The bodice was round waisted and plain with a blue silk band. Blue ribbon braces also trimmed with black velvet crossed front and back, coming to a point at the waist. It complimented her blonde hair and set off her blue eyes. Corinna's was a rich burgundy and of simpler design. A plain silk skirt with a low bodice and a cape of figure lace with corresponding short puffed sleeves. Mac had asked about the colors and Avis told her that younger women wore the lighter colors and older women wore the darker ones. No one wore black and bright red was also frowned upon.  
  
Corinna's housekeeper appeared at the door, "Miz Corinna? They's here."  
  
"Thank you, Effie," Corinna turned back to Avis and Mac, "I took the liberty of arranging escorts for you both." Mac was surprised to see that the unshakeable Mrs. Simpson now appeared decidedly nervous.  
  
Avis frowned, "Really, Corinna, you might have asked. I don't want an escort."  
  
"Does that mean I should go back?" A light baritone voice came from the doorway. Mac turned to see a slender, black-haired man dressed resplendently in the uniform of a Confederate Major. Looking back at Avis, she saw that the blonde was standing perfectly still with a dumbfounded look on her face. A quick glance at the maternal pride on Corinna's face confirmed her suspicions, this was Avril. When she turned back to Avis, she blinked in surprise. The joy and longing that suffused the young woman's face was like watching the sun break through the clouds. Trying to swallow the lump in her throat, Mac found herself edging towards the door. She watched while Avril gave his mother a hug without really taking his eyes off Avis. Corinna said something to them both in a quiet tone and then headed for the door.   
  
At the doorway, Mac took a step backward and collided with a solid body. A flash of deja vu sent a stab of fear through her as she spun into a defensive position. She straightened up almost immediately in embarrassment as a well-built Confederate Captain backed away from her, his hands out in a gesture of surrender. When he saw her straighten up, he smiled and sketched a slight bow, "Your pardon, ma'am. I did not mean to startle you."  
  
His accent was different than that of the people of the Valley. His hair was medium brown and he wore a goatee, which made him look somewhat dashing. Mac shook her head, "Please don't apologize, I should have been looking where I was going."  
  
Corinna appeared, "Ahhh, Captain Landers." She turned to Mac, "Miss Sasha Dzurick, may I present Captain Matthew Landers of Durham, North Carolina? Captain, this is Miss Sasha Dzurick of Moscow, Russia, who is visiting our Miss Avis."   
  
Mac extended her hand and the Captain bowed again, brushing a light kiss across the back of her knuckles. He looked at her and grinned, "Ah yes, the heroine of the hour." Mac felt herself turning red. This was not the type of attention she wanted. Landers tilted his head to catch her eye and placed his hand on his chest, "I am doubly indebted to you, ma'am. For rescuing that which my good friend Avril holds most dear," his voice took on a teasing note, "and for affording me the opportunity to impress these Virginia belles with dancing skills of a North Carolinian." Corinna snorted at that and excused herself.  
  
Mac tried not to grin as she raised an eyebrow, "You're not going to try to impress me?" His jaunty, easy-going manner made it hard not to like him.  
  
He assumed a woebegone expression, "Alas no. How does one impress a European beauty such as yourself?"  
  
Folding her arms, Mac smiled, "Perhaps by dancing?"  
  
He sighed dramatically and offered his arm, "I shall endeavor to do my best, Miss Dzurick."  
  
"In that case, we should prepare for war with Russia," Avril said with a smile as he and Avis walked up to them. He bowed to Mac, "I've seen him dance, Miss Dzurick. It's not a coincidence that most of the ladies of Durham are lame."  
  
"Avril!" Avis slapped at his arm. She looked at Mac, "Sasha, allow me to properly introduce my fiance, Avril Simpson." Avis gave him a mock glare, "He's normally more polite."  
  
"No, he's not," Landers interjected, attempting to look insulted.  
  
"Hush, Matt. I don't know how General Gordon puts up with either of you." Avis smiled at him. Matt Landers was irrepressible.  
  
Mac smiled at the exchange and extended her hand to Avril, "I feel like I know you already, Major."  
  
Avril took her hand in both of his, "I shall consider us as family. Avis already thinks of you as a sister." His look became more intense as he lowered his voice slightly, "I'm forever in your debt."  
  
Mac blushed again. Avis looked over from where she was chatting amicably with Landers. "I think you've embarrassed Sasha enough, Avril. Shall we go to the dance?"  
  
He smiled at her, "Yes ma'am. Let me find Mother." He disappeared down the hallway and came back shortly afterwards with Corinna.  
  
She smiled at the two couples, "William can take you all in the carriage and then come back for me."  
  
Avis glanced at Avril, "It's not that far to the hotel and it's a lovely night. I wouldn't mind walking. That way William will only have to make one trip."  
  
Mac looked over at Captain Landers, "Would you mind walking?" He shook his head with a smile.  
  
Corinna put her hands on her hips, "Well, I'm not walking. I will meet you there."  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 2210 Local  
  
Mac smiled and accepted a cup of punch from a lanky, older gentleman. So far, the evening had progressed without any major disasters. It felt like she hadn't missed a dance. Fortunately, she had also managed not to fall down or knock someone else over. Avis had been correct, these people had already made their minds up about her. The deference with which they treated her might have been become uncomfortable if it hadn't been for the attentions of Matt, Corinna, Avis and Avril. Captain Landers was a breath of fresh air. His quick wit had her relaxed and laughing more often than not.   
  
Finally alone for a few minutes, Mac sipped her punch and looked over the colorful scene. Landers was currently twirling around with a dark-eyed beauty. As one of the few younger men in attendance, he was much in demand. By tacit agreement, Avril was off-limits to most of the ladies. He had danced with her, his mother and the rest of the time with Avis. Mac scanned the crowd and finally spotted the couple on the far side of the hall. It was amazing how many people had shown up. She felt a grin tugging at her lips. On the walk over, Matt had regaled them with the 'Song of the Hoops'. He had a pleasant tenor and after a moment, Avril had joined in as well. She and Avis had laughed so hard, that they had to stop walking.  
  
Avis and Avril clapped politely after the music ended. He offered her his arm and escorted her from the floor. The orchestra wasn't the best but they made up for it by playing with enthusiasm. Not that Avis cared, one way or the other. It was enough that Avril was here. When they reached the sidelines, she turned and scanned the crowd.  
  
"If you're looking for Sasha, she's across the hall," Avril told her with a smile. He hadn't relinquished his hold of her hand. That he'd come close to losing her had shaken him to the core. He should have killed that bastard the first time. He felt Avis squeeze his hand.   
  
"Don't, Avril." Avis looked up at him in concern.  
  
He brought her hand to his lips, "No secrets from you."  
  
"No secrets from either of us," she agreed, her expression serious. "Would you come out to the farm tomorrow? There's a story I need to tell you." She saw worry flit across his face and smiled reassuringly, "It's not bad, merely remarkable. It concerns Sasha."  
  
His relief was evident and he smiled, "Of course, I'll come. The difficulty may be in getting me to leave." His smile faded as he saw Avis suddenly go pale, "What is it? What's wrong?"  
  
"Rage," she muttered, her gaze searching the room. Avril stared at her intently as she closed her eyes and became still. He'd seen her do this before, it had fascinated rather than frightened him. He started in spite of himself when her eyes flew open, "Oh dear God, Sarah!" With that, she spun and headed across the floor, heedless of the dancing couples. Avril hurried after her.  
  
Palos Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1340 Local  
  
Meredith looked out the window as AJ slowly cruised down the street, "Not very big, is it?" He grunted in agreement. She consulted the map, "From here we can go to Strasburg, New Market or Harrisonburg. Which do you think?"  
  
AJ thought it over. "New Market," he said at last. They'd come into the Valley by the Interstate. One look at the construction had convinced him that Mac would not have tried to return by that route. Which left, at least, half a dozen secondary roads she could have taken instead to get through the mountains. It was a ridiculous hope that they would somehow miraculously stumble across the Colonel. The only reason they were out here was because doing something, anything, was better than wallowing in guilt at home. He glanced at Meredith and smiled, she had recognized the need long before he was ready to admit it. Her habit of cutting to the chase was one of the things he admired and loved about her.  
  
"That's where the Virginia Military Institute is, isn't it?" Meredith asked, looking over at him. He nodded silently. She looked out the window again, "There's so much history here. You can feel it."  
  
"That's true," he answered, letting his gaze travel over the landscape before returning to the road. "Hard to believe that most of the Valley had been destroyed during the Civil War."  
  
"Really?" Meredith continued to look out the window. Her knowledge of that time was confined to a course in high school. She remembered the basics and that was about it: 1861-1865, North vs. South, Lee vs. Grant, slavery abolished, Lincoln assassinated.  
  
"Yeah. I'm not the expert. You'll have to ask Sturgis Turner if you'd like more details. He's the Civil War buff."  
  
"I just might do that," she smiled at him. Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by his cell phone ringing. Silently she handed the phone to him. She was getting used to these intrusions. He was the JAG, it came with the territory.  
  
"Chegwidden." She saw him take a deep breath and worry shot through her, was it bad news about Mac? Up until this moment, she had refused to dwell on worst case scenarios. The Universe wasn't that perverse. AJ had told her of Rabb and MacKenzie's various exploits - those two had more lives than a dozen cats. There was a curious sensation of relief and tension at AJ's next words: "Commander Rabb, where are you?"  
  
----------- 


	21. Part 21

Sorry for the delay in posting, I was out of town the last three days at a wedding. Anyway, here's the next part, hope you like it.  
  
Burnett Residence LaJolla, California 1045 Local  
  
"LaJolla, sir, I arrived in San Diego early this morning and my flight out isn't until midnight." Harm hesitated for a moment, he was suddenly having second thoughts about talking to the Admiral. He hadn't been able to reach Mac for the last couple of hours. The last time he'd talked to her was Wednesday evening when he still wasn't sure when he'd be back. She hadn't mentioned any cases that might take her out of town and he'd suddenly gotten a wild hair to go right to the top and question Chegwidden about her whereabouts. Now it didn't seem like such a great idea. The Admiral's only edict towards he and Mac's relationship had been 'keep it out of the office'. Harassing Chegwidden about Mac just because she was out of touch when he felt like talking to her might be construed as breaking that order. Damn, what had he been thinking? ... On the other hand, there was this nagging little worry that wouldn't leave him alone.  
  
"Rabb?" The Admiral's voice jolted him back to the here and now. Harm rubbed at his forehead, the jetlag must be worse than he thought if he was zoning out while talking to a two-star.  
  
"Sorry, sir." Oh hell, just get it out and get it over with, "Sir? I've been trying to reach Mac... Colonel MacKenzie, and I can't seem to find her. Did she have to go out of town on a case this weekend?"  
  
The silence on the other end had Harm kicking himself. What the hell had been going on in his head to think that the Admiral would have nothing better to do on his day off than keep track of his Chief of Staff? Chegwidden must be really ticked if he was taking this long to compose himself. Just as Harm was about to apologize and try to extricate himself, the Admiral came back on the line, "Harm... "   
  
Harm found himself straightening as a prickle of alarm ran down his spine, "Sir?"  
  
"Harm, Mac had to interview a witness up in the Shenandoah Valley on Thursday. It was evening before she started back. I-64/81 was a mess because of construction so we think she tried an alternate route... "  
  
"You think?" Harm interrupted, his voice edging upward in alarm, "Oh God... Sir, you're not telling me that... "  
  
"She's missing, Harm. There was a pretty severe thunderstorm in the mountains that night. There are power and phone outages all over the area. Let me finish," AJ ordered when he heard Harm start to speak again, "There were numerous accidents - none of which involved the Colonel. We just can't find her. It's possible she's merely stranded someplace that hasn't had their phone line repaired yet. The Highway Patrol and Sheriff's Department are looking. We won't stop until we locate her, Harm."  
  
"Yes sir, thank you, sir." Numbly, Harm ended the connection and sat, staring off into space.  
  
Trish Burnett came out on the patio a few minutes later, "Harm, dear, did you get hold of Sarah? Is she going to pick you up at the airport?" Her voice faltered as she took in his still figure, "Harm? What's wrong? Has something happened?"  
  
On the way to New Market Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1355 Local  
  
AJ looked at the phone and then at Meredith, "He hung up."  
  
She raised an eyebrow, "Is that good or bad?"  
  
The Admiral snorted, "With Rabb, you can never tell. He's not due back in DC until tomorrow morning but if he plays true to form, I'll expect him anytime after 1700."  
  
Meredith glanced at her watch and looked at him in surprise, "Is Harm's real name, Clark Kent?"  
  
AJ chuckled, "I've wondered on occasion, but no. What I suspect is that he will try to catch a ride in a F-14. It would be the fastest way here." He sobered suddenly, "Then the real fun will begin. There's no way he can search these mountains on his own, but he's going to want to try. I can't let him do it. I need him at JAG."  
  
"AJ, how much good will he be at the office? Wouldn't it be better to let him search? He'll be worried sick." Meredith could relate to those feelings after AJ's accidental punch-out.  
  
He sighed, "I know that, but he's a senior officer. He has responsibilities and, like it or not, he's going to have to leave the searching to the police. It's not like we're abandoning Mac, after all." He thumped the steering wheel in frustration, "If we could only narrow the search to a reasonable area! There's too many places to look." He continued to scowl as he drove down the road.  
  
She looked at him silently for a few minutes, "What else is wrong?"  
  
Chegwidden gave her a sideways glance, she could be entirely too observant. "Do you remember that anti-government nut who set off a bomb in a federal building and killed a janitor? He hid out in the mountains?"  
  
Meredith frowned thoughtfully, "I believe so, Tobin, wasn't it? Didn't you tell me about that SEAL lieutenant who stumbled across him on a training exercise?"  
  
AJ nodded, "The thing is that entire town was behind Tobin. They think that the government has become their enemy and the military is its willing enforcers." He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, "Dammit, Mac was in uniform. What if she ran into another group like that?"  
  
"What if she didn't?" Meredith countered, "Don't go borrowing trouble, AJ. The only fact we know for sure is that she's missing. I think that's enough to worry about."  
  
"Amen to that," AJ muttered as they lapsed into silence.  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 2215 Local  
  
"Sasha, dear, are you enjoying yourself?" Corinna appeared at Mac's elbow, holding her own cup of punch.  
  
"Very much," Mac smiled at the older woman. If her aviator could have been here, it would have been perfect. She nodded to where Avril and Avis were talking on the far side of the room, "Your son is a wonderful man. You must be very proud."  
  
"Oh, you may be sure of that," Corinna smiled as well. She hesitated for a moment and then said, "I have to admit I had my doubts about this engagement but these past few weeks... well... I'm beginning to think my son is the lucky one."  
  
"They're both lucky to have found each other," Mac said firmly, forcing her thoughts away from pictures of Harm dressed like Rhett Butler. The damn corset was already killing her without putting her body through that reaction.   
  
"Spoken like a woman who has found her own true love," Corinna's grin grew wider as she arched an eyebrow at Mac. "Did you happen to find him here?" Her gaze drifted out to the dance floor where Captain Landers was partnered with yet another young lady.  
  
Mac followed her gaze to the Captain and laughed lightly, "Captain Landers is charming and amusing... "  
  
"But not for you."  
  
"No." Mac's smile faded as she caught a disturbance on the dance floor out of the corner of her eye.  
  
Corinna saw it as well, she frowned, "What in the world? ... Avis? Avril?" She turned towards Mac, only to find her moving away. Then everything went to hell.  
  
As soon as Mac recognized Avis, alarm had the hair on the back of her neck standing up. Turning away from Corinna, she started looking for whatever it was that was scaring the young woman. That Avis was frightened was plain from the look on her face. For one irrational moment, Mac had a sudden fear that Ezra Caine had somehow found her again. That thought was enough of a distraction that she almost ignored the appearance a tall, thin woman approaching from the side. The fact that the woman wasn't dressed for the ball suddenly registered and Mac turned towards her just as the woman launched herself.   
  
There was a flash of steel and Mac threw up an arm instinctively as the woman drove them both backwards. Pain blossomed along her forearm at the same time the woman's hand latched onto her throat. Desperately, Mac tried to keep track of the knife hand while prying the hand loose from her airway. Her legs were useless, trapped inside the wire cage of the hoop skirt. She twisted, trying to throw the woman off-balance, and gritted her teeth against the pain from the corset. The damn thing was like being caught in a vise. Her arm was on fire and the first vestiges of panic were beginning to seep in. How could she defend herself when she could barely move?  
  
Abruptly the woman was yanked away, her fingers leaving scratches on Mac's neck as Avril and Landers picked her up and heaved. As soon as she lost contact with Mac, she began screaming. Much of it was obscenities but the gist of her ranting was that Mac was a miserable Yankee, Yankees had killed her babies, all Yankees needed to die.  
  
Mac stood swaying, staring at the woman who had to be Mary Patrick, and trying hard not to cough. Once had been enough to convince her it was another bad thing to do in a corset. Avril had an iron grip on Mary Patrick's right wrist. She was still clinging to a pair of bloody scissors. Mac kept her left arm cradled with her right, she hadn't looked at it yet. She was almost afraid to, knowing it was going to need some sort of medical attention. Gradually, she became aware that Avis and Corinna had flanked her. All around her, the noise level grew as people who'd been shocked into silence, regained their voices.   
  
Carefully, Mac turned her head towards Avis, "Get me out of here." Her voice was barely above a whisper. The next half hour was just a blur of images: Axel McNair appearing and hauling a still screaming Mary Patrick away; Avril replacing Corinna at her side; Matt Landers angrily clearing a path; the cool freshness of the night air; the painful jouncing of the carriage. By the time they reached Corinna's house, she was fading fast.  
  
Avril looked over at Avis as William pulled the horses down to a halt in front of the Simpson home. Matt and Corinna were waiting for the carriage to come back and get them. He nodded to Mac and said quietly, "Mother said you'll both spend the night here, it's too far to your place. I'll ride to Deacon's farm tonight and ask him if he can have one of his sons take care of your stock in the morning."  
  
"Thank you." Avis smile softly at him before giving Sarah a worried look, she could feel the woman's focus shifting inward. Matt had snagged several linen napkins and he and Avril had done their best to field-dress Sarah's arm. Ironically, they were the most experienced people there at tending wounded. At the moment, the bloody stain didn't seem to be spreading as quickly.  
  
William appeared at the carriage door, Avril gestured to Avis, "You first and then William and I will get Miss Sasha out."  
  
Avis nodded as she stood, "I'll get Effie to prepare a room." She frowned, "There's a doctor at Port Republic, should we send for him?"   
  
Avril shook his head as he handed her down to William, "She needs stitches but Micah Apperton can probably do it. He did a good job on that chestnut mare of mine. We'll get her settled and then send for Micah."  
  
Forty-five minutes later, Micah looked up after snipping the last thread, "All done. Nice and neat, if I do say so myself." This wasn't the first time he'd stitched up a human although it was the first time he'd worked on a woman. He had tried to keep the stitches small. Idly, he wondered if it was Russians in general or just Russian women that were odd. Without any laudanum to deaden the pain, he'd offered her whiskey and she'd told him to pour it on her arm instead. He'd done as she asked even though it was a waste of good liquor and she had promptly fainted. He shrugged inwardly, drunk or passed out, it still made his job easier. He put his kit back together again and got up, moving to the wash basin to rinse the blood off his hands. Corinna settled into the chair he had just vacated. She'd changed out of her ball gown as soon as she had arrived at the house. Moments earlier, she'd sent Avis out to do the same.  
  
Avril shook Apperton's hand, "Thank you, Micah. It was good of you to come."  
  
"My pleasure, Avril, I'm sorry you needed me." He glanced at the woman in the bed, "Mary Patrick did that?" He shook his head when Avril nodded, "I thought Axel kept her locked in her room."  
  
Corinna spoke up from the side of the bed, "He does." She looked at Avril and Matt Landers, who'd been standing quietly in the corner, "We need to talk to him to find out how she managed to get out." Glancing back at Mac, she sighed, "I don't suppose we'll ever figure out why she focused on Sasha."  
  
Apperton shrugged, "She's crazy. Well, I'd best be on my way." He headed for the door, his peg leg giving his stride an odd rhythm. He'd left his leg just below the knee on Malvern Hill, courtesy of a nearly spent cannon ball rolling along the ground. He'd survived and returned home to continue his trade as a blacksmith and part-time horse doctor. Nowadays, he just laughed about it, claiming that it was an advantage. The horses had one less foot to step on.  
  
"I'll walk you out," Avril offered and the two men departed.  
  
After they left, Matt moved up beside Corinna and stood looking down at Mac.  
  
Corinna looked up at him, "It's in God's hands."  
  
Matt nodded solemnly, he'd seen enough men sicken and die from minor wounds to realize that Sasha's recovery wasn't assured.  
  
Burnett Residence LaJolla, California 1105 Local  
  
Frank Burnett hung up the phone and looked over to where Harm was standing. He felt Trish's hand rest on his shoulder and reached up to cover it with his own. They'd been shocked when Harm told them of Sarah's disappearance. He cleared his throat to get his stepson's attention, "I've arranged for the company jet. You can be on your way in less than two hours."  
  
Harm turned his head slightly. "Thank you, Frank," he said quietly before returning his gaze to the ocean.  
  
The Burnetts exchanged worried glances and then Trish squeezed Frank's shoulder, "I'll take this one, dear." They were both aware of Harm's ability to feel responsible for things beyond his control. Trish frowned a little as she made her way over to her son. There was absolutely no reason for Harm to feel guilty about Sarah's disappearance. Worry, anxiety and fear, perhaps, but not guilt. Unless...  
  
Trish leaned on the railing next to Harm and stared out at the ocean, "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
When he remained silent, she glanced up at him, "Were you and Sarah having... problems?"  
  
"No! Well ... a few, but that was weeks ago. It's better now," Harm looked down at his mother.  
  
Trish eyed him appraisingly, "So this silent contemplation of the ocean is worry and not guilt?"  
  
Harm sighed, "A little of both." He turned and looked down at his mother, "We hit some rough spots and I can't say I'm proud of some of the things I said to her. I'm pretty sure we've managed to get past it though."  
  
"Pretty sure?" Trish interrupted, "You don't know?" She resisted the urge to clench her fists. Men! If you weren't openly fighting with them, they thought everything was okay.  
  
He rubbed at the back of his neck and scowled, "The last month or so has been crazy, we've barely managed to see each other. Mac's not exactly an open book, anyway, not even on her good days."  
  
Trish turned around so she could lean against the railing and folded her arms, "None of this explains why you should feel guilty. Did you wave a magic wand and make her disappear?"  
  
He stared at his hands, "Maybe... " At his mother's shocked expression, he closed his eyes, "Mac is one of the most strong-willed women I know, and one of the most insecure. There's a situation I can't really discuss with her and I've taken advantage of the workload to avoid getting into it." He opened his eyes and looked at his mother, "Mac's knee-jerk reaction for protecting herself is to run. What if this disappearance isn't accidental? What if I've driven her away?"  
  
Trish stared at him for a long moment and then punched his arm hard enough to make him wince, "Mom!"  
  
She glared at him, "Don't 'Mom' me! That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard you say! That woman's a Lieutenant Colonel in the Marine Corps and happens to be in love with you. She's followed you into war zones!" She folded her arms again, "Do you love her?"  
  
"Yes! Of course, I do. It's just that... " He stopped and his voice fell to a whisper, "Mom? What if she's gone?"  
  
There was a wealth of pain and fear in that soft question and it tore at her heart. She gathered him into her embrace, "Sarah's not gone, Harm. I can feel it. She just needs you to find her."  
  
He pulled back, wiping at his eyes and giving her a crooked, little smile, "Did you borrow some of her psychic ability while she was here?"  
  
Trish grinned up at him, "Nah, call it future mother-in-law's intuition." She pulled him upright and pushed him towards the house, "Get your things together. You have my daughter-in-law-to-be to find. We'll take you to the airport." 


	22. Part 22

Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1425 Local  
  
Avis wrung out a compress and replaced the one that was there. It was her turn to take care of Sarah. Corinna had taken the morning shift. Now she was out doing what she did best, gathering information and dispensing opinions. Matt had begged off, claiming to have no aptitude for nursing. Instead, he volunteered to stay at Avis' farm and take care of things until she could get back. They were into the second day since the attack and Sarah was growing worse. Yesterday morning, she'd woken up with her arm swollen and hot. By evening, she was running a fever as well. Today, her fever had climbed higher. She'd finally fallen into a restless sleep. Avis turned her head at a soft knock and smiled when Avril quietly entered the room. "How is she?" he asked as he moved a chair up next to Avis.  
  
"She's getting worse." Whispering, Avis looked at her fiance anxiously, "Avril, we need to do something. It's the infection in her arm - it's going to kill her."  
  
Avril stared at her uncomfortably. Standing up, he motioned her away from the bed and they moved to a far corner. He'd seen more of this type of thing than he cared to, "Avis, once gangrene sets in, the only way to save her will be to amputate the arm. I'm sorry."  
  
Avis looked at him in horror and then over at Mac. "No!" She stood silently for a few moments and then said more firmly, "No. Sarah told me of a way clean out an infected wound." It had been a disgusting but fascinating conversation. She'd been questioning Sarah about what her life was like in the twenty-first century. They'd digressed into the rigors of military training and Sarah had told her about her commanding officer and his training as a SEAL. She had said it was part of 'survival training'.  
  
"What is it?" Avril frowned.  
  
"Maggots," she stated with more authority than she felt.   
  
He looked appalled. Unbidden, came scenes of bloated bodies on the field, the aftermath of battle. Infested with maggots, dead limbs would move on their own. "You must be joking!"   
  
She shook her head, "No, they'll eat the diseased areas of the wound. Then we clean them out."  
  
"Avis, no!" Avril couldn't believe she was even contemplating this.  
  
She glared at him fiercely, "What else can we do? Wait until the only thing left to try is amputation? Do you think she'll survive if we let it go that long? I will not have her put through that agony knowing it will ultimately kill her." Her voice shook, "She has to go back to her own time, Avril. She cannot die now, not in this century."  
  
Her words caused a chill to run down his spine. Silently, he finally nodded his agreement, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. "There'll be some where the kitchen scraps are dumped." Most scraps went to the hogs but there was always some spillage and always flies.  
  
Avis turned and strode to the dresser where a stack of bandages lay. Grabbing a handful, she moved to a sewing basket that Corinna kept in the corner. Rummaging through, she pulled out a pair of small scissors. Looking up, she saw Avril watching her, "We'll need alcohol."  
  
Shaking his head, Avril moved to the door. Turning, he smiled weakly, "Scotch or bourbon?" He didn't think this was going to work but she wanted to try and he didn't have any better ideas.  
  
She rolled her eyes at him, "Whichever you like, we're not making her drink it." She'd already noticed that Sarah never imbibed, not even a sherry or wine with dinner. Not knowing if it was due to religious or moral grounds, Avis had respected her wishes without indulging in inquiry. "I want to rinse the scissors. According to Sarah, it's dirt and germs that cause infection. Alcohol kills it." Avril nodded and quietly left. Avis sat down again next to Mac and carefully began removing the blood and matter encrusted bandage.  
  
Groaning, Mac opened her eyes. It took a few moments before she finally focused on Avis.  
  
Avis gave her a tight smile, "Sarah... ," she took a deep breath, "Sarah, you're not getting better."  
  
Closing her eyes, Mac nodded slowly, "Didn't think so." She could summon just enough energy to feel pissed about it. Everything she'd survived in her life and it was going to end because of some lunatic woman and the backward medical practices of the nineteenth century. Surprisingly, it was Harm she was most angry with - why couldn't he be here? Butch and Sundance - that was the deal. She shifted restlessly. Her arm was a constant source of pain, the infection must be spreading. She forced her eyes open again, "Avis, I want to thank you for everything... "  
  
"No!" The fierceness in Avis' voice startled Mac. The young woman glared at her and brandished the scissors, "I'm going to cut open the stitches. The wound's corrupted."  
  
Mac gave her a half-smile, "I know." What she didn't know was whether the infection had entered her bloodstream yet. Without antibiotics, it was just a matter of time.  
  
Avis leaned in closer, "Sarah, I'm going to try to clean out the infection. Do you remember that conversation we had about survival? About one of the ways to clean out a wound?"  
  
Frowning, Mac tried to recall what they had talked about. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she gave Avis a startled look.  
  
Avis nodded grimly, "The only other option is amputation. I don't know if you'd survive that." Avril walked in at that moment carrying a jug and a small mason jar.  
  
He stopped alongside of Avis and smiled down at Mac before looking over at his fiancee, "What do we do first?" He hefted the jug, "I liberated some of Cooter Biggs' 'shine, I swear, it's practically pure alcohol. It'll take the top of your head off."  
  
Forty-five minutes later, it was done and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Avis began cleaning up. Cutting the stitches had produced a surprising amount of discharge. No wonder the arm had been painful to the touch. Avril had had to hold Mac still so that Avis could pull the stitches out. Mac had endured it with her jaws clamped tight, determined not to cry out. As soon as they were done, she'd closed her eyes with a sigh, the fever was sapping her strength.   
  
Despite the fact it had been her idea, Avis had had a hard time controlling her revulsion when they had added the larvae to the wound. They had re-wrapped the bandages, both to keep the larvae from dropping off and to keep them from reproducing. God only knew how Corinna would react if she found out what they'd done. Avis made a promise to herself that she'd give up this approach if there wasn't some improvement in the next twenty-four hours. Now, all they could do was wait.  
  
She gathered the soiled bandages together. Sarah had told her before that they had to be boiled to make them clean enough to use again. Not only that, but anyone who handled the bandages after boiling had to scrub their hands thoroughly before touching them. Avis didn't trust the kitchen staff not to cut corners, she'd oversee everything herself. Avril would stay in the room and keep an eye on Sarah.  
  
After Avis left, Avril rearranged the chairs so he could put his feet up. He knew that life with Avis Payne was never going to be dull but he had no idea it could be like this. Last night she had told him a story he would have immediately discounted if it had been anyone but Avis telling it. The necklace had been the clincher. He knew there was only one and here was a second that looked like it had been made a century ago. The worn initials of Avis' godfather could still be seen. Curious, he'd gotten Avis to agree to an experiment. He'd taken her necklace and added a small gouge next to the initials. When they checked Sarah's necklace, it had given them both chills. It now sported a slight indentation where he'd put the gouge. He stared at the woman in the bed, marveling that she could have been born over a hundred years in the future.  
  
At first, he'd had a hard time accepting that Miss Sasha Dzurick was actually Lt. Col. Sarah MacKenzie. The time travel was difficult enough to swallow without having to believe that a woman could be a high ranking military officer. What had the world come to? He was still adjusting to the idea. It certainly helped explain how she had outmaneuvered three men. What was surprising was that she was decidedly feminine. He knew that a fair number of Northern women were agitating for an equal place with men in society. He'd dismissed them for the hoydens they were, grateful that Southern women had more sense. They exerted their influence behind the scenes. No Southern gentleman willingly crossed them, at least, not overtly. His mother was a prime example. Old Henry Cantrell might be the mayor, but it was Corinna Simpson that wielded the power in town.  
  
It was not as much of a stretch to believe she was an attorney. Avril snorted to himself, he had the acquaintance of a number of women who could talk circles around him. They'd be perfect for lawyering. Unlike a number of his peers, he didn't think women were less endowed in intelligence. Avis had cured him of that when he was sixteen and had noticed her for the first time. He was still amazed at how deftly she had handled him and his oversized ego. He'd been intrigued rather than insulted and the intrigue had turned to attraction. Avis Payne had led him a merry chase and the pursuit had broadened his horizons. And now, here they were.  
  
He hadn't been terribly surprised when Avis had cautiously told him what the outcome of the war would be. After all, he'd been watching the inexorable approach of the ever-growing Union army for months while battle, disease and desertions whittled the formidable Army of Virginia to a shadow of its former self. That didn't mean they weren't still dangerous. Those battle-hardened veterans would march to the gates of Hell and take on the Devil himself if Robert Lee asked. He was proud to be a member of their ranks. The only question was who still had to die before it ended.  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 2310 Local  
  
Avis' eyes flew open and she jumped, startled out of a fitful sleep by a hand insistently shaking her shoulder. Effie stood by the bed, looking apologetic, "Miz Corinna needs you, Miss Avis."  
  
"Oh dear Lord! It's not... she didn't... " Avis stared anxiously at the housekeeper as she threw on a robe. It had been over thirty hours since they'd applied the maggots. She had checked the wound before going to bed and been amazed at the improvement. What was worrying her was the fact that Sarah's fever still raged on. Had they waited too long?  
  
"No'm, it's good news. Miss Sasha's fever done broke. We jes' need help gettin' fresh sheets on de bed," Effie's eyes widened in surprise when Avis gave her a hug before racing out of the room. She followed the young woman at a more sedate pace.  
  
Corinna looked over her shoulder and smiled as Avis flew into the room, "Slow down, young lady, I don't need you hurting yourself as well. Miss Sasha's not going anywhere. Come give me a hand. You too, Effie, if you please."  
  
With the three women working together, it didn't take much time to get Mac into a fresh nightgown and clean sheets on the bed. Almost as soon as they'd gotten her back into bed, Sarah had closed her eyes and gone back to sleep. Avis gave Corinna a worried glance.  
  
"It's all right," Corinna reassured her, "The fever took a lot out of her. She needs to sleep. By morning, she'll probably be awake and ready to eat. Why don't you go back to bed? You haven't had much rest, either. We can all talk in the morning."  
  
Avis nodded slowly and then threw her arms around a startled Corinna, giving her a hug, "Thank you, for everything."  
  
Corinna smiled, returning the hug, "You're quite welcome. Now, go on, I'll see you in the morning." She watched fondly as the young woman left the room. Having Avis as a daughter was becoming more appealing all the time. She turned back to the other woman in the room, "Effie, you go on back to bed, too. I'll stay with Miss Sasha and see you in the morning."   
  
Dulles Airport Washington, DC 1540 Local  
  
Harm shook hands with the crew and picking up his duffle, climbed down the steps of the Lear jet. Frank had pulled him aside just before he left and told him to call immediately if there was anything he needed in his search for Sarah. His mother had told him to remember to call as soon as he found her. Reaching the tarmac, he looked around and then spotted Sturgis leaning against the fender of his car. Quickly he made his way over.  
  
"Sturgis, thanks for coming," Harm shook hands with the Commander, "Anything?"  
  
Sturgis shook his head as he opened the rear door so Harm could throw his bag in the backseat. "Nothing yet, Harm. The Highway Patrol hasn't found anything. No sign of Mac or her car."  
  
"Damn, what could have happened?" Harm dropped into the passenger seat, his frustration evident. He glanced at Sturgis, "Has anyone talked to Webb?"  
  
"The Admiral has a call into him. Apparently, he's not in the country right now," Sturgis looked over at him, "Your place?"  
  
"Yeah, sure... thanks," from the sound of Harm's voice, his mind was obviously elsewhere.  
  
"What are you planning to do?" Sturgis asked cautiously, well aware of Harm's single-mindedness. Not to be callous about it, but with Mac missing, the backlog of work was growing at an alarming rate. Although Chegwidden hadn't said anything, Sturgis would be surprised if the Admiral let Harm off to conduct his own personal search.  
  
Harm looked at him like he was out of his mind, "I'm going to find her, Sturgis. What else would I do?"  
  
Sturgis raised an eyebrow, "Now? You're planning on driving up to the Shenandoah this afternoon? Harm, by the time you get out there, it will be dark. You won't be able to see anything. When are you due to report back in?"  
  
"Monday at 0900. That gives me all of tomorrow to look. If I leave now, I won't waste any daylight hours in travel."  
  
Turner concentrated on his driving for a few minutes, he was pretty sure what he would say next wasn't going to be welcomed by his friend. "Are you sure that's such a good plan? You don't have any idea where to look." His eyes narrowed and he cast a suspicious look at Rabb, "You don't, do you?" As far as he knew, Mac was the pseudo-psychic of the duo. God help them if Harm started doing it too.   
  
Harm scowled in irritation, "For godsakes, Sturgis, you think if I knew, I'd keep it a secret?" He exhaled heavily, "I have to do something. I can't just sit home, I'll go crazy." He paused for a moment, "Are you sure Webb isn't involved somehow?"  
  
"As sure as we can be with the CIA," Sturgis admitted. He'd had his own suspicions. If anyone could make a person vanish so completely, it would be Webb and his cohorts. The problem with that scenario would be why. Granted, Mac had been involved with cases that had had CIA connections, but so had Harm. If there was some sort of threat, wouldn't they have made Rabb disappear as well?   
  
On the other hand, it was quite possible that the CIA might not be part of this. He hadn't forgotten how quickly Mac had vanished on her own when 'Archangel' hit the fan. He was beginning to wonder if this disappearance was more deliberate than accidental. It had been two days, and even though the area was immense, surely someone would have spotted a wrecked car. The million dollar question was: Was the person or persons behind her disappearance, friendly or unfriendly?  
  
Harm grunted thoughtfully, he'd do what he could to pin Webb down. It was just possible that the Agency had been responsible for Mac's disappearance. He knew Clay had a soft spot for Sarah MacKenzie and would do what he could to protect her. But if that was the case, Harm doubted the CIA operative would refuse her request to somehow let him know that she was okay - if for no other reason than that she would happily break the man's nose. What scared him was if someone had gone after Mac and she was now in no condition to contact anyone. That scenario was even more frightening if Webb hadn't been keeping an eye on her. With a sigh, Harm turned and looked out the window. He had to stop dwelling on worst-cases, it was way too early in the game to give up on her.  
  
Sturgis did have a point, however. There was a tremendous amount of ground to cover and he had no real clue where to start. He was running on emotion, certain only of the need to find her. The thought brought a half-smile to his lips recalling a certain Marine's words at a train station in Russia. What he'd give to be able to hear her lecture him on sound mission-planning!  
  
Harm was somewhat startled when Sturgis pulled to a halt in front of his building. He'd lost track of time. Opening the door, he looked over at his friend, "Thanks, I owe you one."  
  
Sturgis shrugged, "Don't mention it." He looked at Harm for a moment and then came to a decision, "Want some company? I've got a packed bag in the trunk." As worried as he'd been over Mac's disappearance, he still realized how impossible the odds were of finding her without any leads to follow. Because of that, he'd sat back and waited for the police reports. It hadn't been easy - on any of Mac's friends. Having to rely on people they didn't know was grating when all the searchers reported was non-information: no sign of Mac, no sign of her car, no idea of what route she might have been on. Now that Harm was willing to gallop off in his Quixote-style quest, Sturgis decided he would happily go along as Sancho. He'd be there to give Harm a shoulder to lean on when they proved unsuccessful tomorrow and also make sure he came back in time to report in. When they eventually found Mac, or she found them, she wouldn't thank him if he hadn't kept Harm from scuttling his career.   
  
"I can't ask you to do that," Harm replied, "Besides, what would Bobbie say? Don't you two usually have plans for the weekend?"  
  
"Mac is Bobbie's friend too, Harm. She's worried, hell, we all are. I don't think she'll object to me helping you search. Who knows? Maybe we'll get lucky."  
  
Harm smiled, "Maybe we will." 


	23. Part 23

Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 0830 Local  
  
Avis pushed open the door to Sarah's room with her hip. She was carrying a tray of food that she had liberated from Effie, whom she'd met in the hallway. Looking for Corinna, she saw that the older woman was asleep in a wingback chair, her feet propped up on a small footstool. Avis sat the tray on the dresser and moved to the other side of the bed to check on Sarah. The brunette was sleeping also, Avis was pleased to note that the feverish flush was gone. Leaning down, she placed the back of her hand lightly on Sarah's forehead. It was cool to the touch.   
  
Mac's eyes opened slowly and she gave the young woman a tired smile, "Good morning."  
  
"Good morning to you," Avis smiled back, keeping her voice low. She didn't want to disturb Corinna. "Feel like eating a little?"  
  
Mac nodded and began trying to push herself upright with one hand. "Let me," Avis commanded. She got Mac leaning forward and quickly rearranged the pillows before letting her settle back. Retrieving the tray, she positioned it on the bed and then sat down next to it. Avis picked up a bowl of what looked like cream of wheat and scooped out a spoonful, "Open up."  
  
Giving the spoon a somewhat jaundiced look, Mac frowned slightly at Avis, "What is that?"  
  
"Porridge." She smiled at the look on Mac's face, "You haven't had anything solid in almost four days and you're not starting now. First, you'll have porridge, later on a little soup and if all goes well, some toasted bread and tea."  
  
Mac swallowed the spoonful and made a face, "May I, at least, feed myself?"  
  
"No," Avis gave her another spoonful and arched an eyebrow, "You need to eat this. I'll not have you feeding it to the cat."  
  
"Practicing for my first grandchild?"  
  
They both looked over to see Corinna watching with amusement. Avis grinned, "Of course, how am I doing?" Mac rolled her eyes and accepted another spoonful.  
  
"I believe you're getting the knack," Corinna chuckled. She watched quietly until Avis had finished and then continued in a more serious tone, "I need to talk to you both about some of the things I've learned." She nodded to herself as she watched the two exchange glances. "First, I've spent a good bit of time talking to Axel... and Mary Patrick." She paused for a moment, taking in Avis' somewhat shocked expression and Sasha's more guarded one. "One thing is quite clear. Someone unlocked the doors and gave Mary Patrick the scissors. What isn't as clear is what these persons or person was hoping to accomplish." She raised an eyebrow at Avis, "You know how unpredictable your aunt can be. She could have very easily stayed in the parlor. These violent spells don't come that often. Or, I should say, she's not normally violent without cause. That cause usually has something to do with Yankee soldiers. Since there aren't any around, it's somewhat confusing that she came all the way to the dance and singled out Miss Dzurick. Of course... you would know better than I what might goad Mary Patrick into such an action."  
  
Mac took a quick look at Avis, the young woman was somewhat paler but she remained composed. She also seemed to be waiting for something. 'The other shoe', Mac thought wryly to herself as she glanced back at Corinna. This was the first time she'd heard anyone, outside of Avis, mention a family connection with Mary Patrick or allude to their family 'gift'. She braced herself when Mrs. Simpson's focus shifted to her.  
  
"And you, Miss Dzurick," Corinna's stare was piercing, "Are you aware that your accent disappears when you're delirious? She didn't mention that the young woman had also rambled on in several different languages. She watched the two exchange glances again and sighed, "Will one of you kindly tell me the truth?"  
  
Avis finally spoke up, "All right, Corinna, but first I want you to know that part of our duplicity was to protect you. I didn't want to give anyone any ammunition against you."  
  
Corinna gave her a look, "You mean Eudora Dickerson. I can handle that sorry excuse for a woman." Her eyes narrowed, "Does Avril know?"  
  
Avis nodded, "I told him the morning after the attack. I'll keep no secrets from him."  
  
Corinna smiled at her, surprising both Avis and Mac, "My dear, every woman should keep a few secrets. Men have a hard enough time dealing with the obvious. Now... enough pussyfooting about, let's have the truth." She folded her arms and waited.  
  
Mac jumped in before Avis could start, "Corinna, my name is Sarah MacKenzie and prior to coming here, I spent seven weeks with the Union army."  
  
Looking aghast, Corinna blurted out, "You mean you're a... "  
  
Mac shook her head as Avis got out an emphatic 'No!'. She closed her eyes briefly and let the dizziness pass. She was still light-headed enough to make too much motion inadvisable. She put a hand on Avis' arm and continued, "No. I'd been in an accident and I found myself lost and alone in this Valley. I'd been wandering for the better part of a day when I stumbled into a skirmish. Partisans, I think, trying to raid a supply train. The Yankees drove them off and, well, 'captured' me." She smiled ruefully, "The commanding officer accused me of being a... um... camp-follower as well. I lost my temper, yelled at him and tried to leave."  
  
"What happened?" Corinna was fascinated.  
  
"I knocked down three of his men before it got to be too much and I fainted. When I woke up, I discovered they had taken me along in one of the wagons. The commander, Colonel Rabb, turned out to be a gentleman after all. When he discovered that I didn't know how to return home and didn't know anyone in the Valley, he arranged for me to stay within the protection of his regiment. I became a sort of mascot for them." Mac fell silent, talking about Josiah was once again stirring up dangerous feelings. She thought she'd put him behind her.  
  
"But how did you wind up with Avis?"  
  
Seeing the pensive look on Mac's face, Avis took over the narrative, "That part of the story we told was mostly true. Except that Sarah was abducted from the camp and it wasn't her driver that was killed, it was one of the kidnappers. He'd had a change of heart and tried to help her escape. His two partners killed him for it and thought they had killed her. Deacon found her while he was giving Thomas a ride home and brought her to me. I'm trying to get her home. We thought it would be easier for the community to accept her if they thought she was a foreigner. Since Sarah speaks a number of languages fluently, we decided on Russian."  
  
Corinna rubbed her chin slowly, "When you said 'easier for the community', you meant easier for me, didn't you?" She fell silent. Mac glanced over at Avis, who shrugged slightly. It was anybody's guess how Corinna would react now.  
  
Outside the door, Effie crept quietly away. She hadn't been able to hear everything, but she'd heard enough. It would be worth good money to some folks to learn that the high-falutin' Sasha Dzurick was actually Sarah MacKenzie and nothing more than a common Yankee whore.  
  
Harm's Apartment North of Union Station 0500 Local  
  
Harm sipped his coffee and stared out into the pre-dawn darkness. He hadn't been able to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a stretch. Nightmares would force him awake. He'd finally given up and put some coffee on. He was going to need quite a bit of it today. Goddammit, where was she? What had happened? He raked his hand through his hair. Yesterday had been an exercise in futility. He and Sturgis had gone to Palos and talked to Master Chief Bollings. Well, they had attempted to talk to the man, it had been hard to get a word in edgewise. If the consequences hadn't been so serious, it would amused him to imagine his no-nonsense Marine trying to ride herd on the overly garrulous Master Chief. As it was, Harm was amazed that the old fellow wasn't dead. Mac had shown incredible restraint. At any rate, it had taken them an hour and a half to break away from 'Tribby' and in the end, he'd been no help at all. He couldn't even be sure about the time the pretty Marine Colonel had left.  
  
There was no way to retrace Mac's steps. According to Sturgis, she had talked to the Admiral around 1750 and learned that she had to get back to JAG to replace Major Hardesty on the bench. She'd been on her cellphone. Sturgis had gotten the phone records - it was the last call she'd made. Theoretically, Mac could have already been driving but Harm was fairly sure she would have called before she left. Apparently, her original plans had been to spend the night out this way and drive back in the morning. Knowing she had to preside over a case, Harm figured she wouldn't want to waste any time. She'd probably planned on driving straight to JAG to pick up the case file so she would be prepared in the morning.   
  
He'd pulled up the meteorological reports for Thursday while en route from California. Thunderstorms had rolled through the Blue Ridge Mountains beginning approximately at 1840. There'd been a series of them and they'd gotten nasty, dumping several inches of rain in a short time. Straight-line winds had been clocked at 50 mph and there'd been a multitude of lightning strikes. There'd been trees down, mud slides and flash flooding. Harm didn't think Mac would try to drive through a storm that bad, she wasn't an idiot. More than likely, she'd stopped somewhere to wait it out. It was doubtful, however, that she had stopped immediately. He was willing to bet that Mac probably slowed down and continued on until she was convinced the storm was growing worse. Harm estimated that she might have been driving anywhere from 40 to 90 minutes before she stopped. Allowing for lower speeds on the local roads, that would put her anywhere from 20 to 55 miles from Palos. It was a huge and difficult area to search. What worried him were the breaks between the storms. What if she thought the worst was past and then got caught in the next one?  
  
He and Sturgis had pored over the map, trying to decide what route Mac might have taken. They were both in agreement with the Admiral's assessment that the Interstate was out. Construction and rush hour traffic would have kept her from trying it. The problem was that there were so many ways she could have gone. In the end, he'd chosen to go through Harrisonburg. They had stopped along the way at every sheriff's department and police station. They were all aware that Mac was missing and no one had seen any sign of her.  
  
Frustrated, Harm put down his coffee mug and got up to pace. How could she have vanished so thoroughly? Someone had to have seen her. She must have stopped somewhere for gas and to eat. Mac rarely skipped meals if she could help it. Dammit, military personnel weren't that common in the Valley, surely someone would have noticed and remembered a female Marine officer. Suddenly, he stopped pacing. Oh Christ, what if she'd run into some of those anti-government nutcases? Her uniform would be like a red flag. He turned around and glared at his phone. Why the hell didn't Webb call? When you didn't want him around, you were tripping over the goddamn spook. Harm took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. If domestic lunatics had grabbed Mac, Webb wouldn't know about it anyway. That was the FBI's bailiwick. He checked his watch, it was only 0530. When he got over to the office, he'd give SA Novak a call. Since the Fibbies had gotten some of the glory for breaking up 'Archangel' last year, Harm figured they owed him and Mac a favor or two.   
  
Glancing out the window, he saw that the sky was beginning to lighten. 'Day Four', he thought to himself bleakly. Not for the first time, he was grateful he wasn't cursed with Mac's time sense. Knowing to the minute how long she'd been gone would have been gut-wrenching. If... when he found Mac, he'd apologize for the times he put her through something like this. With a sigh, Harm turned towards his bedroom, he had plenty of time for a run before Sturgis showed up.  
  
He smiled wryly to himself as he changed into shorts and a tank top. His friends and colleagues had banded together to save him from himself. They really expected him to go off the deep end. Sturgis, with Bobbie's blessing, had appointed himself chief watchdog. He'd stuck with him all weekend and then announced he would be giving Harm a ride to work in the morning. Both Bud and Harriet had called him on his cell to commiserate, offer their support and tell him that they'd be there for him at JAG on Monday. All in all, it had been a very unsubtle approach to let him know they weren't going to let him trash his career if they could help it. It was a heartwarming and ultimately futile gesture. His career wasn't worth a tinker's damn if he lost Mac in the process. He would report in and do his job but at the first inkling of a lead to Mac's whereabouts, he'd be out of there, orders be damned.  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1020 Local  
  
Mac paced slowly between Avis and Avril. This was the first time she'd been up and dressed since her fever broke three days ago. She felt unsteady, like she was learning to walk again. They were going back to Avis' farm. No one was particularly happy. Corinna had been upset by their revelations. She hadn't let it interfere with being a gracious hostess but she hadn't spent any more time with them than necessary. Avril had reassured Avis that this would pass. His mother had been forced to confront an unflattering facet of herself and it was taking time. He'd also agreed with Mac's decision not to let Corinna into the small cadre of people that were aware of the time-travel aspect. Best to let her think that the worst thing they had hidden was that Mac was from the wrong side of the Mason-Dixon line. He was going to tell the same thing to Matt Landers. Both he and Matt had developed a grudging respect for their foes - they shared a warrior's bond. Landers wouldn't be all that shocked. Trusting him with the complete truth was another thing. Avril loved Matt like a brother but he had no illusions about the man's ability to keep his mouth shut. Put him with friends, add a bit of whiskey and Matt would be blathering about everything.  
  
Mac cast a surreptitious glance at Avis. Her lips were set in a thin line and she seemed to be entirely focused on making sure Mac didn't stumble or fall. That wasn't the case, of course. Word had come to town that a column of Yankee cavalry was approaching. Most of Early's troops were in Staunton, too far to arrive in time. It would be up to the local militia and Avril and Matt had volunteered to take command. Avis had been practically beside herself. She had tried once to dissuade both men, fully aware that she would fail to sway them from what they considered their duty. After that, to all outward appearances, she reverted to her calm composure. For Mac, however, the waves of worry and grief were almost palpable. She could only surmise that she'd become more sensitive to Avis' moods. Her sense of foreboding was growing but she couldn't tell if it was something she was experiencing on her own or if she was echoing what Avis was feeling. If Avril had noticed, he wasn't saying anything.  
  
Corinna met them at the front door, nodding a silent greeting, and then following them outside as they walked over to Avis' buggy. Goodbyes were exchanged with Corinna unbending enough to give Avis a brief hug although she had yet to look Mac in the eye. It was uncomfortable and Mac found herself scanning their surroundings. There were only a few townspeople about and Mac was shocked to discover that they seemed to be regarding her with hostility. She glanced back at Corinna, had she betrayed them so quickly?  
  
Then, there was no more time to think about it. Landers was lifting her into the buggy while Avril helped Avis in from the other side. The two men would ride escort to make sure the women arrived safely and then go join up with the militia. Mac heard Avril promise to return in two days. She couldn't help the cold little prickle that ran down her spine.  
  
JAG Headquarters Falls Church, Virginia 0900 Local  
  
AJ stared at the clock and then scowled at his phone. Jen Coates was filling in for Tiner today and was under strict orders to let him know the moment Rabb walked in the door. God help the Commander if he decided to go UA. Unable to sit any longer, the Admiral got up and moved over to stare out his window. He and Meredith had spent the weekend up in the Shenandoah. They'd found a bed and breakfast to spend the night in and gotten a large dose of local history from the proprietors. All of which was interesting and ultimately unproductive in finding his missing Chief of Staff. About the only thing to come out of that trip, other than Meredith's desire to to it again under better circumstances, was to truly grasp the immense difficulties of the search. While the mountains weren't that large, there were hundreds of little roads leading into and out of them. All it would take would be one wrong turn combined with a little bad luck and a person could vanish. Some of the undergrowth in those thousands of little ravines were dense enough to swallow all signs of a car. Unless someone came forward with a lead, it would require a damn miracle to find Mac.  
  
"Admiral?" Jen's voice crackled over his intercom.  
  
Chegwidden whirled away from the window, "Yes, Petty Officer?"  
  
"Sir, Commander Rabb and Commander Turner just walked in," the relief in Coates' voice was evident. There'd been furious speculation in the bullpen about what the Commander would do when he found the Colonel was missing. Opinions were mixed, some thought he would blow off his career and go UA until he found her, others thought the discipline of the service was too deeply ingrained and that he would show up at the appointed time. A third group embraced both ideas, Rabb would show up and then go UA in his search. AJ owed much of his information on the current scuttlebutt to Gunny Walters and Jen Coates.   
  
The speculation about Colonel MacKenzie's fate was starting to touch on the more morbid. It was the beginning of the fourth full day that she'd been missing. Half of the discussions now centered around how long an injured person might survive without medical care. AJ knew it wasn't meant to be callous. As officers went, Mac was rather popular with the staff. He figured it was their way of reassuring themselves. The Colonel was a tough-as-nails Marine, she could survive quite a lot. Hell, she already had. Stories were being re-circulated about the myriad of should-have-been-fatal scrapes that Rabb and MacKenzie had made it through.   
  
The other half of the discussions dealt with revenge and the number of people who would gladly see the Colonel dead. Theories and suspects were bandied about, shot down and resurrected in new combinations. It was beginning to resemble a giant game of Clue. It didn't make it any easier for her friends, Bud was a case in point. This morning, the normally affable Lieutenant had jumped on a couple of yeomen after overhearing their conversation. AJ had pulled Roberts into his office to vent and then cool off. There he had found out that Bud had been engaged in his own relentless search. His had been via the Internet as he tracked down the whereabouts of anyone who might have had a grudge against the Colonel. He didn't look like he'd had a good night's sleep in days. If they weren't so damnably short-handed, Chegwidden would have sent him home right then.  
  
AJ glared at the intercom, "Coates? Tell Rabb to report to my office in five." Neither one of them was going to enjoy what he was about to do but there was no point in putting it off. 


	24. Part 24

Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1630 Local  
  
Mac padded into the kitchen, scrubbing absently at her face. She'd been sent off to nap almost as soon as they arrived. The ride back to Avis' place had been more tiring than she would have imagined and she'd actually gone without protest. She was feeling a bit steadier on her feet but not quite ready to run any races. Avis was sitting at the kitchen table, shelling peas. She gave Mac a quiet smile as the brunette pulled up a chair and grabbed a handful of pea pods, "How are you feeling?"  
  
Mac leaned her elbows on the table and grinned ruefully, "I think I'm getting tired of sleeping." The two women lapsed into a comfortable silence as they continued to shell the peas. Finally Mac glanced over at Avis, "Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?"  
  
The younger woman sighed, keeping her eyes on the table, "Where do I start?"  
  
Tilting her head to one side, Mac grinned, "How about starting in the middle and working your way out? Beginning at the beginning is boring."  
  
Avis smiled in spite of herself, "I could start at the end, jump to the beginning and end in the middle."  
  
Mac raised an eyebrow, "You could also skip every third word but then it might get confusing."  
  
Chuckling, Avis shook her head, "I'm truly going to miss you, Sarah." At Mac's startled look, she nodded, "We're getting close to the right time. Two weeks from tomorrow." Avis smiled, "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies."  
  
Shutting her mouth with a snap, Mac stared at Avis, the strength of conflicting emotions surprising her. Home. Harm. The thought of it filled her with exhilaration and trepidation. She'd been gone almost exactly 10 weeks. She ran a hand through her hair and stopped. It was almost two inches longer than when she'd gone missing. How was she going to explain where she'd been? Could she tell Harm? Would he believe her? Oh hell... when it came down to it, she'd have a hard time believing it herself. Mac took a deep breath, "Are you sure? You'll be able to get me home?"  
  
Avis leaned forward, lightly resting her arms on the table, "As sure as I can be. I remember the stories my grandmother told me. Of course, at the time, I thought that's all they were - stories. It's going to be by guess and by gosh, but I'll do the best I can."  
  
Mac dropped her gaze to the table before looking at Avis again. She felt a pang. She was going to miss this young woman terribly. It occurred to her that she'd never had close female friends. There was Harriet, of course. The young lieutenant was a curious mixture of kid sister and mother hen but it was tough to get away from the specter of rank. When all was said and done, Mac was Harriet's superior officer - a fact neither of them could truly forget. Avis was an equal, more importantly, she felt like family. Mac stared at the tabletop. The worst part of going back to her own century would be knowing that, by then, Avis was dead and gone to dust. And it wasn't just Avis; Josiah, too, would be dead. It hurt to think about it. All the people of this century who had touched her life: Avis, Josiah, Tommy, Billy, Deacon, Corinna, Avril, Matt ... reduced to dry dates in some government record.   
  
"Sarah?"  
  
Looking up from the pea pod she was mangling, Mac gave a half-smile, "I was just thinking how much I'm going to miss you and this place."  
  
Avis smiled back, "It's not going to be easy for either of us. You've become like family."  
  
Mac sighed, staring off at some far distant point and then shaking her head. "Avis, if it doesn't work... if I can't get back... well, I wouldn't want you to worry. I think I could be happy here."  
  
They fell silent again, concentrating on the task at hand. After a few minutes, Mac cleared her throat, "So, are you going to tell me what's wrong?"  
  
Avis paused, rubbing at her forehead before looking wryly at Mac, "You know, I'm not sure I'll miss this persistence." She pushed away from the table and stood up, beginning to pace, "It's Avril and Matt. Something terrible is going to happen." She gave an exasperated snort, turning back towards Mac, "How's that for a prediction? They're riding into a battle with a militia made up of old men and young boys, armed with shotguns and hunting rifles. Of course, something terrible is going to happen!" She leaned against the sink and buried her face in her hands, "I can't help feeling like I need to be there."  
  
Quietly, Mac rose from the table and walked over to Avis, wrapping her in an embrace. She could feel the young woman's shoulders shaking. After a few minutes, Avis seemed to be getting herself under control again. Mac leaned back a little, "If we're going to get there before dark, we need to get a move on."  
  
Avis' head came up in surprise, "What?"  
  
Mac stepped back a little, folding her arms, "You heard me." She looked around the kitchen, "We'll need to take some supplies - no telling what we'll find. And whatever guns you have... I'm not going anywhere unarmed. I don't suppose you have a revolver tucked away somewhere? ... What?"  
  
Avis continued to stare at her, "Sarah, have you lost your mind? You just got out of a sickbed! Do you want to wind up there again?"  
  
"If you think I'll stay here and let you go off on your own, then I'm not the only crazy person in this kitchen," Mac retorted, raising an eyebrow. She waved a hand, "It's not like I plan to get there on my own two feet. That's what the horses are for." She made a shooing motion, "We're wasting time. We've got a lot to do before we can leave."  
  
An hour later, they were on their way. Avis had her team hitched to a buckboard. It would be more practical than a buggy. They'd only been on the road a little ways when Avis turned down a long drive, "Deacon's place," she said, in answer to Mac's questioning look. A short time later, they pulled in front of a pretty little farmhouse. A short, rotund black woman came out on the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. Avis waved, "Hey, Miz Chandra."  
  
The woman smiled, coming down the porch steps, "Miss Avis! How are you? Won't y'all come in and join us? I was just about to ring Deacon and the boys in, supper's almost ready." She gave Mac a curious look and a nod and then focused again on Avis.  
  
Avis shook her head, "Thank you, no. We've got a ways to go this evening." She looked over at Mac, "Miz Chandra, this is Sarah MacKenzie. Sarah, this is Deacon's wife, Chandra Turner."  
  
Mac smiled, "Pleased to meet you, ma'am. Deacon and Avis both speak highly of you."  
  
Chandra fluttered a hand, looking pleased, "I've been hearing quite a lot about you, too, Miss Sarah. I'm mighty glad to finally meet you." She looked at Avis again, "Are you sure you won't come in? There's plenty."  
  
"I wish we could but we're pressed for time. You know I don't pass up your cooking if I can help it. I stopped by to see if Enoch might take care of my stock in the morning. I'm not sure we'll get back in time."  
  
Chandra folded her hands at her waist, "I don't see why not." She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes a bit, "Does this have anything to do with that Yankee cavalry?"  
  
Avis ducked her head, "Yes'm. Avril's out there with the militia and I've got the worst feeling... "  
  
Clucking her tongue, Chandra regarded the young woman with sympathy. She'd known Avis since she was a little bit of a girl in pigtails. Her grandparents had been fine folk. Neither she nor her grandmother, old Annabel Pike, had ever made a secret of their abilities. She might have lost Deacon years ago if Avis hadn't shown up on her doorstep, crying. He'd been digging a new well and the little girl had refused to calm down until he climbed out to comfort her. Not five minutes later, the walls of the well had collapsed. If Chandra hadn't believed in second sight before, that day convinced her.   
  
Avis had been a blond whirlwind of activity growing up. After chores and schooling, she spent her time happily racing between the two farms. She'd come over to play with Chandra's babies or discuss the latest foal or calf with Deacon. Chandra, for her part, never let Avis leave without stuffing her apron pockets with fresh-baked cookies. She shook her head at the memories, "Well then, you'd best be going. Y'all be careful and don't worry about your place. Enoch will watch it."  
  
"Thank you," Avis gave her a grateful smile and then clucking to her team, wheeled the buckboard around and headed back to the road.  
  
Chandra watched them drive out of sight and then went back up onto the porch. Moving to the dinner triangle, she picked up the striker and began to ring her men in. She'd have to remember to include Avis in her prayers tonight.  
  
JAG Headquarters Falls Church, Virginia 0905 Local  
  
Harm walked briskly into Chegwidden's office and came to attention, "Commander Rabb, reporting as ordered, sir."  
  
AJ looked up at his senior attorney, "Have a seat, Commander." He leaned back in his chair, making a steeple of his fingers while Rabb settled down in his usual chair. He looked tired. "How did your search go, Harm?"  
  
If Rabb was surprised that AJ opened with that question, he didn't show it. He rubbed his jaw, looking somewhat lost himself, "No sign of her, sir. She's vanished." He gazed at AJ, "I don't suppose you've heard anything from Webb, have you, sir?"  
  
Chegwidden shook his head, "Not yet. All I've been able to find out is that he's in South America. I suppose this means we can't blame Mac's disappearance on the CIA."  
  
Harm scowled, "I wouldn't be too sure... sir."  
  
AJ grunted, there was some truth in that. "Commander, do you know how I spent my weekend?"  
  
Rabb shook his head slowly, unsure where the Admiral was heading.  
  
"Meredith and I spent it driving around the Shenandoah Valley." He sighed, "We didn't find anything, either."  
  
Harm shifted a little, "I... um... well, thank you, sir."  
  
AJ stared at Harm, "My point is, Commander, that it's too big an area for one person to search effectively."  
  
Rabb stiffened, "Sir... "  
  
AJ held up a hand, "This office, however, is sinking under a backlog of cases. I need you where you'll do the most good, Commander, and that's right here. Commander Turner will assume the duties of Chief of Staff. As the senior attorney, I need you in court. I'm bringing in some junior officers on TDY from surrounding offices to take over the field investigations. As much as I would prefer to take a part in finding Mac, I cannot allow one person's disappearance to cause this office to become derelict in its duties."  
  
Harm was looking more upset, "But sir... "  
  
"We're not abandoning the search, Harm. Local law enforcement agencies will continue to look and keep us updated. This is not open for discussion."  
  
"Admiral, what if I can come up with a lead? Something that narrows the search to a reasonable area?" Harm's knuckles were white where he gripped the armrests.  
  
"Then we'll notify Search and Rescue. Commander, those local agencies are trained for this sort of thing and they're familiar with the area. Let them do their job. I've talked to the department heads out there, they know to contact us as soon as they find anything. We will find her." AJ stared at Harm, still seeing rebellion. He stood up and waited as Rabb climbed to his feet and came to attention. Leaning forward, Chegwidden rested his knuckles on his desk, "Do not cross me on this, Commander, or a certain Marine Lt. Colonel will also kick your ass when she gets back. Dismissed."  
  
Harm stared hard at a point six inches above the Admiral's head, "Yes sir." Pivoting smartly, he marched out of Chegwidden's office. AJ sat down again, running his hand over his head. It was even money that Rabb would bolt at the first clue to Mac's whereabouts. He leaned back, thinking. When it came to the Colonel, Rabb was also capable of a reckless abandonment of common sense. It probably wouldn't hurt to make sure he had back-up. He picked up his phone and punched in a number, "Gunny Walters, please... "  
  
Harm strode back to his office, ignoring the looks he was receiving from the bullpen. He pulled the door to as he went inside and dropped heavily into his chair. He was scowling at the stack of files on his desk when there was a light knock on his door. Sturgis put his head in, "Got a minute?"  
  
Harm waved him in and waited while the Commander sat down, "What do you need, Sturgis?"  
  
Sturgis raised both eyebrows, "Me? Nothing. I came to see how you were holding up."  
  
"I'm just wonderful," Harm growled, "Mac's out there somewhere and the Admiral's made it perfectly clear that I'm to remain here."  
  
Sturgis leaned back in his chair, "Well, what did you expect, Harm? He's got responsibilities and so do you. The caseload has been crazy. While you were running around with Admiral Boone, everyone here was pulling 12 hour days. Hell, I think some days, Mac was putting in 14 and 16 hours." He shook his head, "Unless you can do what Mac did and pinpoint a location, what are you going to do out there? Let the local cops do the legwork. The important thing is to find Mac, will it ultimately matter who spots her first?" The two men sat silently and then Sturgis rose to his feet, "If you need anything, just yell."  
  
"Thanks," Harm tried not to sound too petulant as Sturgis left his office. He'd halfway expected something like this - he wasn't blind or stupid. It was just the actual collision with harsh reality that had him going. Somehow, though, he'd figure out a way to find her. Meanwhile... wearily, he reached for the first file in the stack.  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1750 Local  
  
"Do you know where to look?" Mac asked, as Avis sent Jupiter and Jenna down the road at a businesslike trot.  
  
Avis shook her head, "All I really know is that they're south of us. We'll head for Cross Keys and see what we can see. We should be there in less than an hour."  
  
Mac looked up at the sky, "It'll be dusk by then, I hope we find them soon. I'd rather not try this in the dark." She settled back on the hard bench seat of the buckboard. It wasn't nearly as comfortable as the buggy, a fact that was probably going to tire her out faster. At least her arm was down to a minor ache. The loaded shotgun was propped up against the seat between Avis and herself. Mac wasn't taking any chances.   
  
Forty-three minutes later, they came to a crossroads by a small church. There was an elderly gentleman in the cemetery. Avis pulled the horses over, "Excuse me, sir, we're looking for the militia. Have they been by this way?"  
  
The old man grunted disdainfully, "Hard t' say. Might have, they scattered to the four winds when them Yankee boys came ridin' at 'em. Some mighta run this way."  
  
The horses shifted restlessly as Avis' hands tightened on the reins. "Where did they meet up with the Yankees?"  
  
He pointed down the road, "Go past Rodenheffer's place to the Dunkard Church. The Mill Creek schoolhouse ain't too far past. Somewhere near there is what I hear, those bluebellies were headed to Port Republic. Hope they stay that way - don't need 'em round here."  
  
Avis got out a hurried 'thank you' as she sent the team charging down the road. Mac grabbed the metal armrest in one hand and the shotgun in the other. When they reached the Dunkard Church, Avis pulled the team down to a walk. Sporadic gunfire could be heard in the distance. With the echoes, it was hard to tell how far away it might be. A few minutes later, the body of a horse told them they had reached the scene of the conflict. Mac put her hand on Avis' arm and pointed towards a field to the right. In the dim light, figures with lanterns could be seen walking. Avis turned the horses off the road and headed for the field. All too soon, they began passing bodies. From the homespun clothes, it was apparent that quite a few of the casualties were militia. Occasionally, there was a blue uniform to be seen.  
  
Pulling the horses to a stop, Avis looked over at Mac, "I'll have to go the rest of the way on foot. I don't want to run over anyone." She held up a hand when Mac began to protest, "Sarah, I need you to stay with the horses until I find Avril. We can't afford to have someone steal them." She climbed down and went to the back, pulling out two lanterns. Lighting them, she handed one to Mac, "I'll be back as soon as I find him." She moved away from the buckboard, stopped briefly and then walked resolutely off to her left.  
  
Mac watched the lantern as it bobbed and weaved through the field. Now that she was still, she could hear a low pitched moaning that pervaded the field, mingled with the normal sounds of dusk. It made the hair on the back of her neck go up. This was one thing she couldn't seem to adjust to, despite the time spent with Josiah's command. The magnitude of the carnage when these two sides fought. This would be considered a minor skirmish by Civil War standards and a substantial firefight in her time. A firefight with an unacceptable level of casualties, someone would be cashiered for spending their men's lives so freely.  
  
Keeping the shotgun cradled in her lap, Mac swore softly when she realized that she'd lost track of Avis' lantern. Jupiter shifted restlessly, stamping a foot and rattling his bit. The smell of blood and death made him nervous. Mac murmured soothingly to him, watching the numerous lanterns moving about the field. Townspeople doing what she and Avis were doing, searching for loved ones amid the dead and wounded.  
  
Fourteen minutes later, Mac held her breath as a lantern came towards her. She said a small prayer of thanks as Avis came into view. Mac looked at her anxiously, "Did you... ?"  
  
Avis nodded, "We need the wagon." Grabbing Jenna's bridle, she turned to start leading them back the way she'd been.  
  
"Avis, wait," Mac called softly. When the young woman stopped to look back at her, Mac put the shotgun down and climbed out of the wagon.  
  
"What are you doing?" Avis gave her a puzzled look, "You shouldn't be exerting yourself."  
  
Mac shook her head and reached for the lantern, "I'm fine. You should be driving, you're better at it. I'll walk ahead and light the way, you can tell me when to go left or right. Go on, we're wasting time."   
  
It was a slow process, picking their way across the field. Finally, Avis spoke in an anxious tone, "There. He's over there by that fence." They hurried the last few yards and then Mac saw him. He was stretched out on the ground, his uniform front a bloody mess. It was obvious that one of Avis' petticoats had been put to good use.  
  
Avril opened his eyes as Mac knelt down next to him, "Hey, Miss Sarah." His voice was barely a whisper.  
  
Mac smiled at him, "Hey yourself. Didn't anyone ever teach you to duck?"  
  
He smiled back and smiled wider when Avis appeared next to him with a blanket. Mac touched his shoulder to get his attention, "We're going to use the blanket to move you. It's probably going to hurt."  
  
It took a good ten minutes to wrestle Avril into the back of the buckboard. They did their best not to jostle him, while he tried not to groan too loudly. Mac leaned against the side of the wagon, she could feel herself shaking from the exertion. Avis climbed out and stood next to her. Quietly, she pointed off to the right, "Matt's up that way, Sarah. He's dead."  
  
Mac stared at Avis, her expression stricken, "Oh God... "  
  
Avis nodded, looking down at the ground for a moment, "I want to take him so we can send him to his family in Durham. It will be a comfort for them to have him home."  
  
Numb, Mac reached for the lantern and started for the front of the wagon. Avis put a hand out but Mac shrugged her off. She kept her voice level with an effort, "Please, I think I need to walk." The strain she'd felt earlier had been swallowed by grief. Silently, Avis acquiesced, climbed onto the seat and took up the reins. They moved off slowly. The fighting had been fiercer this way and their path became more roundabout.  
  
Mac was skirting around the body of yet another horse when she felt that same cold prickle at the back of her neck. Stopping, she slowly began turning in a circle. "Sarah? What is it?" Avis' hushed voice came from the wagon. In a kind of macabre deference to the dead, neither woman had spoken louder than a low undertone.  
  
Shaking her head, Mac held the lantern higher. Just beyond the body of the first horse was a second, this one still had his rider. Reluctantly, Mac found herself walking towards the pair, her sense of foreboding growing with each step. Abruptly, she sank to her knees and with a strangled sob, reached out a hand, "Josiah!"  
  
JAG Headquarters Falls Church, Virginia 1640 Local  
  
Harriet saw the blinking light on her phone and picked up the handset, "JAG, Lt. Sims speaking."   
  
There was a crackling of static and then the distant voice of a woman, "I can't hear anything, Anthony Wade. Are you sure this works?"  
  
Harriet frowned slightly, "Hello? This is Lt. Sims." There was more static.  
  
"Hello? Hello?" the voice was a bit louder, "Is this the... what was the name, Anthony Wade?... is this the Judge Advocate General's office? ... I didn't think they had generals in the Navy... what?... oh... well, it is confusing... Hello?" There was another crackle of static.  
  
Harriet stared at the phone for a moment and sighed. She really wasn't in the mood for this. It had been a long day. "Yes, this is the Navy Judge Advocate General's office. May I help you?"  
  
"I hope so, dear. May I speak to Lt. Col. Sarah MacKenzie please?" Static flared again on the line.  
  
"I'm sorry, Col. MacKenzie isn't in right now," Harriet rubbed her forehead, "Would you like to speak to another officer?"  
  
"Oh dear... Anthony Wade, she's not there... no, I don't know. Let me ask... Excuse me, do you mean she's not there at the moment or that she didn't get back there last Thursday night?"  
  
Harriet straightened abruptly, her eyes widening, "Ma'am, did you see the Colonel Thursday night?" There was a burst of static. She gestured frantically at a petty officer to get Commander Rabb. He came out of his office and looked at her quizzically. She concentrated on the phone again, "Hello? Are you still there?"  
  
"Hello? ... I can't believe you paid good money for this phone, it doesn't work very well... No, I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth. I was just saying... Hello?"  
  
"Ma'am? Can you hear me?" Harriet resisted the urge to scream, this was incredibly frustrating.  
  
"Ahhh, there you are. Yes dear, what was your question?"  
  
Harriet stared at Harm as she carefully repeated her question, "Ma'am, did you see Colonel MacKenzie Thursday night?" Harm straightened in shock and then moved swiftly beside her. Checking to see what line she was on, he raced back into his office.  
  
"Yes I did. She had dinner with Anthony Wade and I. Are you saying she didn't arrive that night? She said something about preparing for a case, she was quite insistent upon leaving ... oh... afraid... might..." The call dissolved into static.  
  
"Hello? Hello!?" Harriet stared at the handset and uttered a word that had a few heads turning in the bullpen. She looked up at Harm as he came out of his office again, "I'm so sorry, sir, I lost the connection."  
  
"Not your fault, Harriet. I don't suppose there's any way to trace that call?" Harm's fists clenched as he resisted the urge to punch something. So goddamn close!  
  
"No sir, it was a cell phone and not a very good connection," Harriet stared at her phone in frustration. "Maybe she'll call back."  
  
Harm scrubbed a hand through his hair, "Maybe... Did she give you her name? Say where she was calling from?"  
  
Harriet shook her head, "No sir. She sounded older and she kept talking to someone named Anthony Wade."  
  
Damn! Harm blew out an aggravated breath and then raised his voice, "May I have everyone's attention?" The bullpen became quiet as everyone turned towards the tall Commander. "Lt. Sims just took a call from a woman who may have been the last one to see Colonel MacKenzie on Thursday night. She was on a cell phone and we lost the connection. If she calls back, please notify me immediately. Thank you." With that, Harm turned around and went back into his office, taking care not to slam his door. He sank down in his chair and stared moodily at the computer monitor. Let Harriet brief the Admiral on the phone call. It wasn't fair! So goddamn close! 


	25. Part 25

Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1920 Local  
  
Josiah was curled on his side, leaning forward close to his horse's neck. He was still in the saddle, one leg disappearing underneath his mount's body. The side of his face was covered in blood from a slash that started just above his eyebrow and traveled towards the back of his head. There was another blood-stained area at the top of his shoulder with a ragged hole in his uniform coat showing where the bullet had struck. Mac laid hold of his arm and started to pull him over on his back. She yanked her hand back like it was on fire when a groan answered her efforts.  
  
Avis appeared next to her, staring at the Union soldier in front of her, "Sarah?"  
  
"Avis, it's Josiah Rabb. He's still alive," Mac took a shuddering breath, unsure of how the young woman would feel about helping the enemy. Avis had been somewhat of a neutral party, although she held to the Southern viewpoint. She thought slavery was wrong and that it should be abolished but not by force. Avis also believed that every state had the right to secede if that was their people's desire. God knew that the New England states had made attempts before. The vituperative hypocrisy of both sides made her angry. Of course, all of this was before Union soldiers had killed and wounded Matt and Avril. "Please, we can't just leave him here."  
  
"I thought he was the commanding officer of a brigade," Avis frowned. At the moment, she was having trouble feeling charitable to anyone in a blue uniform, even one that Sarah so obviously cared for.  
  
"He is," Mac shook her head, "He must have found a way to join this column." Her voice grew softer as her feeling of guilt grew, "He was probably trying to find me." Unbidden came that hurtful statement that she'd overheard Harm tell Sturgis during that time their relationship was at its lowest ebb - how any man that was ever involved with her was dead or wished he was. Dammit, why was it that those types of comment never seemed to be forgotten? She sent a startled glance back as Avis silently turned and walked to wagon, "Avis?"  
  
Avis looked at her quietly, "We'll need the team to get that horse off of him and I need to talk to Avril." She was gone for a few minutes and then came walking back. Gathering the reins, she reached behind each horse and unhooked the swingle trees. Looking over at Mac, she called, "Sarah, I'll need your help." Directing her to release the pole between the two horses, she then sent Mac to retrieve a length of chain from the toolbox on the side of the wagon. Avis had her fasten it to the trees and hold on to it to keep the traces from dragging on the ground. In short order, Avis had the team in position and the chain wrapped around the pommel of the saddle. Rigor mortis hadn't set in yet and she was hoping to roll the horse up on his belly. She motioned for Mac to take her place next to Josiah, "Sarah? You'll need to pull him out quickly. The chain might slip a bit once the horse is upright. Ready?"  
  
Mac nodded, clenching her jaw as she set herself. Her heart was hammering in her chest, grief, anxiety and exertion all chipping away at her depleted reserves of strength. She had her hands under his arms, firmly wrapping her fingers in his uniform coat. There was some comfort in that she could feel him breathing. Mac tensed as she heard Avis cluck to the team and watched as the chain began to tighten. It surprised her, for a moment, at how easily the horse was moved and then she was scrambling backwards, hauling Josiah with her. He groaned again but she didn't have time to be gentle. Avis had been correct. Once the horse was up, the chain did slip. Mac barely had him clear before the body rolled back again. She wound up sitting on the ground with his head and shoulders in her lap. With a fair amount of trepidation, she checked his pulse and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. It was strong and steady.  
  
"Sarah?" Mac looked up to where Avis was standing with the team. The blonde gestured her over while glancing around nervously, "I need your help. We have to get the horses hitched back to the buckboard. Then we need to get Matt and leave." Although the sporadic gunfire they'd been hearing had almost completely died out, Avis didn't want to be around if they came back this way.  
  
Carefully, Mac extricated herself and then hurried over to help Avis. If the blonde was nervous, there could be more to it than being surrounded by the grisly aftermath of battle. Together, they got the team re-hitched fairly quickly. Mac had had a number of chances to practice in the last four weeks and she was a fast learner. At least she had learned the mechanics of harnessing, driving was a whole other matter. Avis had had her hold the bits in her hands and she'd been amazed that she could feel the slightest touch on the reins. No wonder horses didn't like heavy-handed people handling the lines. Avis had also given Mac a couple of driving lessons. It was enough to convince her that it would take a good long while to learn properly. She didn't know horses well enough to anticipate trouble or give them confidence when they got shaky.  
  
Moving back to Josiah, Mac knelt down beside him, suppressing a groan. The day was catching up with her. She looked up as Avis knelt down on the other side, "Most of the bleeding has stopped." It was worrying her that he still hadn't regained consciousness.   
  
Avis nodded and motioned towards the leg that had been trapped, "Looks like it's broken." She eyed him for a second and then sighed, giving Mac a dry look, "We need to get him in the wagon. Couldn't you have found a little, skinny man to fall in love with you?"  
  
Mac gave a tired chuckle, "I'll be more choosy next time. It is possible to move the wagon closer so we won't have to go as far?"  
  
Scanning the ground around them, Avis stood up, "I believe I can." She went back to the wagon and after several minutes of judicious maneuvering, brought the back of the buckboard close to where Josiah was lying. Even so, it was a struggle for the two women to get him onto the bed of the wagon. They stood panting for a moment, looking at the two men. Avril had opened his eyes briefly while they wrestled Josiah in, but now they were closed. He seemed to be holding his own.  
  
Mac picked up the lantern and doggedly made her way to the front of the horses. Avis climbed up into the driver's seat, not bothering to argue with the mule-headed brunette. Sarah had made it quite plain that she didn't trust herself driving with the cargo they now had. Quietly, she directed Mac on the proper direction as they continued on their way to collect Matt. Uneasy, Avis kept half an eye on their surroundings. She couldn't put her finger on a direct threat but she was feeling an overwhelming need to get away quickly. She watched the other lights bobbing over the field. It wouldn't surprise her if some of the people out there were robbing the dead and wounded. Thinking about it, she reached over and slid the shotgun into her lap. It wouldn't hurt to have it handy.  
  
It took another ten minutes to find a path to get the wagon through but finally, they reached Matt's body. Mac stood looking down at him, feeling the grief all over again. War was such a goddamn waste. Avis came up beside her, blankets in hand. She stared silently down at him for few long seconds and then knelt, spreading out a blanket beside the body. She looked up at Mac, "We need to hurry." Nodding wearily, Mac knelt down as well. Working as quickly as they could, they wrapped Matt's body in several blankets. He was the easiest to get into the wagon, being the lightest of the three men.  
  
Avis looked over at Sarah as they leaned against the tailgate. Even in the light of the lantern she could see how pale the other woman was. She put a hand on Sarah's forearm, "You need to ride in the wagon and rest. This was too much, too soon."  
  
Mac shook her head and then instantly regretted it. What she really felt like doing was throwing up. She'd pushed herself to the point where she felt nauseous. Closing her eyes briefly, she waited for her stomach to settle and then gave Avis a wan smile. "We'll get out of here that much faster if I'm in front with a lantern."  
  
Avis pursed her lips in exasperation, "And it will be that much slower when you collapse. Get in the wagon, I can lead the horses as easily as driving them. You just sit up there and hang on to the reins in case we need to stop suddenly." She was pushing Mac towards the front of the buckboard as she spoke. "I'll feel safer once we're away from here. Then we can take the time to look after Avril and your Colonel." Avis finally got Mac onto the seat, pulled a leather lead out of the toolbox and retrieved the lantern from the back. Walking to the front again, she noticed that although Sarah was sitting hunched over, she had taken the time to put the shotgun in her lap.   
  
Attaching the lead to Jupiter's bridle, Avis couldn't help feeling reassured. Sarah was an exceptional shot. The day after Deacon had come back from New Market, he'd returned to her farm with his two sons, various weapons and quite a bit of ammunition. Apparently, he and Sarah had put their heads together and decided it would do her a world of good to blow something inanimate to smithereens. It had, too; there was something primordial and satisfying in the absolute destruction of a piece of wood. It was like taking aim at all her demons. Sarah had been the surprise. Avis still smiled, recalling the expressions on the faces of Deacon's sons, Enoch and Erazmus. The two boys, fifteen and thirteen, had been as disdainful as only teenagers can be at the thought of women target-shooting. That disdain had changed to amazement when Sarah consistently out-shot them on every target they set up with every weapon they'd had her try. Avis knew herself to be a competent shot. Living out on a farm, it was somewhat of a requirement, but Sarah was levels above 'competent'.  
  
Lifting up the lantern, Avis tugged on the lead and clucked to her team, they obediently started to follow. She swung to her right. Rather than try to retrace their route in, she would follow along the fence line. If she remembered correctly, it would take them out to where the road curved between the church and the Mill Creek schoolhouse. They'd be close to Mill Creek as well. That would give her a chance to water the horses before they turned towards home.   
  
The question was whether or not to try getting back tonight. It would take a good two hours. The horses were tired and she couldn't go that fast with wounded men anyway. Should she try to find a place to spend the night? She hadn't said anything to Sarah but she doubted anyone would welcome them with a wounded Yankee officer in tow. More than likely, they'd wind up camping by the side of the road. Would it be better in the long run for Avril and the Colonel if she pressed for home now? There was also Sarah to consider. She was teetering on the edge of exhaustion - not a good thing for someone who had been bedridden for the better part of a week. Avis sighed. First, get away from this place of mayhem and death. It would help clear her mind. So much killing, so many souls - how could men do this to each other?  
  
Mac sat on the seat, feeling a bit dazed. Bosnia was the last time she could remember being so wrung out and she'd been considerably younger then. She'd automatically grabbed the shotgun upon climbing into the wagon, sliding it onto her lap before leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. She was still somewhat nauseous. Hopefully, that feeling would dissipate as she recovered from her exertions. Mac found herself pondering Avis's words, 'your Colonel.' She was too tired to put up even a token protest at the assumption he was her anything. ... Dear God, she hoped both he and Avril would recover, but then what?   
  
What the hell was she going to do now? Josiah was here. Mac ran a weary hand through her hair. His presence had forced her to realize that she'd been willing to take the coward's way out, letting fate decide. Go through with whatever Avis was planning and if it was successful, she'd be back with Harm. If it didn't, well, there was Josiah as the consolation prize. For the life of her, she couldn't decide if it was a win/win or lose/lose situation. Dammit, what kind of person was she? Mac closed her eyes briefly. She was the kind of person who was falling in love with another man. The problem was that it didn't make her love Harm any less. Damn these Rabb men. What the hell was she going to do? As sure as God made little green apples, Josiah had been looking for her to ask her to stay. No matter which way she chose, the one heart she could be sure of breaking was her own.  
  
Slowly, she brought her attention back to the here and now, sweeping her gaze across the surrounding area. None of the other people with lights were anywhere near but that didn't mean someone couldn't be stalking them. The problem would be spotting them in the darkness. Well, when eyes failed, it was time to trust other senses. Mac turned her attention back to the horses, focusing on Jenna and Jupiter. They might have blinders on, but their ears were as sensitive as any antennae, swiveling constantly towards any new sound. If anyone was planning an ambush, hopefully she'd have enough warning to react in time.  
  
Seventeen minutes later, Avis came walking back. Mac blinked at her a trifle owlishly, "What's wrong?"  
  
Avis shook her head, "Nothing, we've reached the road. I'm going to take the horses to Mill Creek so they can drink. After that, we'll find a spot where we can pull over and do whatever else we can for Avril and Colonel Rabb." She looked Sarah over as she spoke, the stubborn woman had pushed herself too hard and now she was paying the price. Could she hold on long enough to get home? Avis climbed up and nudged Sarah over so she could sit, taking the reins at the same time. Clucking to the horses, she started them down the road.  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 2310 Local  
  
Avis pulled the horses to a stop in front of Deacon's house and glanced over at Sarah, "Just a little longer." Mac nodded numbly. Avis had helped her stay awake by plying her with questions about everything and anything. From the status of women in the twenty-first century to what life was like in the Marines to how she had first met Harm and their up and down relationship over the years. She'd talked herself hoarse but at least she was still upright. Now she watched as Avis climbed the steps and pounded on the Turners' door.   
  
A few minutes later, Mac looked up at the sound of a window opening. Deacon's baritone came out of the dark, "Who's there? Speak up!"  
  
Avis came off the steps and looked up, "Deacon? It's me, Avis. I'm sorry to wake you, but we need your help. We found them."  
  
"You did?" They could hear the surprise in his voice. "Hold on, I'll be right down." A few minutes later, both he and Chandra appeared on the porch. She was in a robe, carrying an oil lamp, while he was still tucking in his shirt. Deacon looked at the wagon and then at Avis, "Are they... ?"  
  
Avis couldn't quite help the catch in her voice, "Matt is. Avril is wounded but still alive. ... and we found Colonel Rabb there as well."  
  
Deacon shot a quick glance at Mac and then looked back at Avis, his amazement evident, "Miss Sarah's Colonel Rabb? The Yankee? Well, I'll be..." He shook his head and then smiled at her, "I expect you need some help moving them into your house? That Colonel was a fair-sized man." His voice grew softer, "And I'm sorry to hear about Capt. Landers. I know he and Mr. Avril were close."  
  
He turned as Chandra put a hand on his arm, "I'll get the boys up, looks like y'all will need all the help you can get." She smiled at Avis, "Can I get you anything, child? Would you and Miss Sarah like some coffee?"   
  
"No, thank you, Miz Chandra," Avis looked back at the wagon, "I need to get Sarah into a bed, too. She's not well. I shouldn't have let her come with me."   
  
Chandra patted her arm, "She's a grown woman. I imagine she didn't give you much choice in the matter. Let me get the boys." She turned and went back in the house.  
  
Deacon headed for his barn, "I'll get the wagon hitched and then we can follow you over."   
  
After they arrived at Avis' place, it took another hour to get everyone situated. Sarah was the first one they put to bed. She'd lost her balance getting out of the wagon and probably would have been hurt if Deacon hadn't been close enough to catch her. He'd carried her straight into the house and followed Avis right into an upstairs bedroom. After he went back downstairs, Sarah managed to stay coherent long enough to assist in getting herself undressed and then unceremoniously collapsed. Avis pulled a light cover over her and then hurried down the steps to prepare for the men. Avril went into Sarah's old room and Avis set up a bed in the parlor for Josiah. She'd figure out more permanent arrangements later.  
  
Deacon and his sons had been a godsend. With them helping, she was able to get both men resting comfortably in a short time. She gave Deacon and each of his sons a hug before they left, disgusting Erazmus and embarrassing and delighting Enoch. Deacon had chuckled as he shepherded his sons out the door, promising to check back in the morning. Avis had made one last round of her charges before retiring to her own bed. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.  
  
JAG Headquarters Falls Church, Virginia 0840 Local  
  
Harm stared blankly at the file in front of him. He'd arrived at the ungodly hour of 0700, determined to be on hand when the mystery woman called again. She was going to, he could feel it. Now, however, he was beginning to reconsider his enthusiasm. He hadn't slept that well - again - even though he'd tried to wear himself out going head to head with Sturgis on the basketball court. When he got home, he'd telephoned his parents to update them on the non-information concerning Mac's whereabouts. He didn't tell them about the call. At the moment, there wasn't much to tell and he didn't want to get their hopes up. By the time he'd finished rehashing everything with them, he'd worked himself back into that aggravating state of helplessness he hated so much. Sleep had been long in coming. Where was she?  
  
Grimly, he re-focused on the file. What had he been thinking? Who, in their right mind, would call a government office before 0900? All he'd accomplished by coming in early was to garner a range of sympathetic and pitying looks from the staff. Sensing a presence, he looked up to see Harriet standing in his doorway with a cup of coffee.  
  
She smiled when he looked up and lifted the mug, "I brought you some coffee, sir. I didn't think you'd feel like going to the break room just now." She seen both the looks and his studied indifference of them. He was probably feeling like a classroom science project the way everyone was watching.  
  
Harm smiled at her and gestured to a chair, "Thanks, Harriet, have a seat." He reached out to accept the mug and waited while she settled herself. Leaning back, he sipped the coffee gratefully and grinned at her, "How's my godson?"  
  
Harriet gave a small sigh that only mothers of four-year-olds could appreciate and smiled back, "He's quite the little bundle of energy. Thank goodness for pre-school." She hesitated for a few moments and then said, "That woman is going to call back, you know. We're going to find the Colonel." She spoke with a quiet conviction. Harm sighed, rubbing his eyes. Harriet was struck by how tired he looked, Mac's disappearance was taking its toll on him. What would he do if they didn't find her? Probably kill himself with worry alone, Harriet thought grimly. Please, God, have that woman call soon with a solid lead on the Colonel. Harriet climbed to her feet, "I should let you get back to work, sir. We'll let you know as soon as she calls."  
  
"Thank you," Harm watched her walk back to her desk and sit down. Taking another sip of his coffee, he turned back to the file, resisting the urge to check his watch yet again. When would that woman call?  
  
JAG Headquarters Falls Church, Virginia 1550 Local  
  
Harm walked back to his office and dropped the file folder on his desk. He'd spent the last hour hammering out a plea-bargain with Sturgis. One more case off the docket. For a while, he'd been afraid Sturgis' client wouldn't realize that this was the best he was going to do and insist on a trial. Sitting down, he reached for the next case. One thing about getting in early, he was getting quite a bit accomplished. He'd just opened the file folder, when he glanced out into the bullpen and froze. Harriet was starting to reach for her phone. This was it, this had to be it. Holding his breath, he watched her answer, then suddenly straighten up and spin in his direction, her eyes wide.  
  
Harm was out of his chair in an instant, hurrying over to stand beside the Lieutenant. Harriet glanced up at him as she spoke, "Yes ma'am, of course I remember you. Thank you so much for calling again... Ma'am? I have Commander Rabb right here and he's very anxious to talk to you about Colonel MacKenzie. ... yes ma'am, Commander Rabb ... here he is."  
  
Harm all but snatched the phone out of her hand, "Hello? This is Commander Rabb."  
  
"How do you do, Commander? This is Annabel Simpson. Are you a friend of Miss Sarah's?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am. Do you know what happened? Where she might be?" He had a white-knuckled grip on the handset. All around him, the bullpen fell silent as the staff unabashedly listened.  
  
"Oh dear, well... yes and no. I believe I know what happened and I think I know where she is - that's partly why it took me so long to call back. Well, that and waiting for them to finally fix our phone lines. I simply could not go through another session on Anthony Wade's cell phone. I suppose that makes me ungrateful. It was very nice of him to go through the effort of getting one just so we could call but, honestly, I think I did better as a child with two tin cans and a string... "  
  
"Ma'am! Mrs. Simpson!" Harm broke in desperately, "About Mac, Colonel MacKenzie... ?" He rubbed his forehead, unconsciously mimicking Harriet yesterday.  
  
"Mac? She's a strikingly beautiful woman, Commander, and you call her Mac? Are you very good friends?" Annabel's voice had a dubious tone.  
  
"She prefers to be called Mac and yes, we're very close. You say you know where she is? Is she all right?" Harm's voice had an edge to it.  
  
"No need to get testy, young man, I said I think I know. It's also important to know what your relationship is with Miss Sarah. Forgive my directness, but do you love her?"  
  
Harm stared at the phone in disbelief, his temper beginning to rise, "What has that to do with anything? Either you know where she is or you don't. If this is some sort of game for you... "  
  
Annabel cut him off, "This isn't working, Commander... "  
  
Suddenly panicked, Harm held the phone tighter, "No! Wait!" His voice dropped lower, "Please, you don't understand. I have to find her. ... Mrs. Simpson?... Hello?... "  
  
Annabel nodded to herself, she had her answer, "I think this would be easier if we could meet face to face. Some of this will be hard to explain unless you can see the proof. Can you come to the White Horse Grill just outside of Harrisonburg? Two days from now, around six p.m.?"  
  
"Two days? Why not tonight? What aren't you telling me?" Harm rubbed the back of his neck, what the hell was going on?  
  
"It can't be tonight because the timing would be wrong and for goodness' sake, Commander Rabb, I haven't actually told you anything. You must learn to curb your impatience. We don't have a large margin for error. We're on State Route 33 at Peales Crossroads. I'll see you at six." With that, she hung up.  
  
Harm stared at the phone and then slowly hung up. Harriet looked up at him, "Sir? Does she know where the Colonel is?"  
  
"She said yes and no." Harm turned away abruptly, "I need to talk to the Admiral." He strode off, leaving a perplexed Harriet staring after him. 


	26. Part 26

Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 0820 Local  
  
Avis walked into the parlor with a fresh basin of water and clean bandages. Dealing with Sarah's injury had taught her a few things. She'd just finished with Avril and he was sleeping again. Once she was done with the Colonel, she'd check on Sarah once more. The brunette hadn't stirred at all when Avis had looked in a little after sunrise. She was running a low fever but Avis didn't think it was serious. Probably her body's way of protesting the abuse it had gone through yesterday. Deacon had come by early, dropping off Enoch to take care of the stock. He was taking Matt to the undertaker in town so they could prepare him for his final trip home.  
  
She put the basin down and then jumped in surprise when she realized that a pair of sea-green eyes were watching her intently. Even with half his head wrapped in bandages, Colonel Rabb was a handsome man. He spoke quietly, "I didn't mean to startle you." His gaze drifted around the room, "Where am I?"  
  
Avis inclined her head, regaining her composure, "In the parlor of my home, sir." She pulled a chair up next to him and reached up to start unwinding the bandages.   
  
Rabb caught her wrist in a surprisingly strong grip, "Why?" She regarded him steadily and glanced at her wrist. He let it go with a muttered apology and repeated his question, "Why?"  
  
Softening her gaze, she watched him closely as she answered in a quiet tone, "Because Sarah asked me to do so."  
  
This time it was Rabb who jumped in surprise and then grimaced. He looked at her with wide eyes, "Sarah? Sarah MacKenzie? She's here? Where is she? Is she all right?"  
  
Avis gave him a reassuring smile, "Yes, Sarah's here. She's asleep right now and hopefully, she'll stay sleeping for a few more hours. She wore herself out yesterday."  
  
Rabb sat quietly digesting that and Avis took the opportunity to replace the bandage on his head. Cleaned up, it didn't look nearly so bad. The cut was long but shallow. She looked at him, "You were lucky."  
  
"Hard headed is probably closer to the truth," he eyed her for a long moment, "Sarah's letter said that you'd figured out her secret almost immediately."  
  
She shrugged, touching the necklace that she wore, "Hard not to when she's wearing my necklace. Apparently, it's a family heirloom in the future. Did you figure it out or did she tell you?" Avis had been forced to read between the lines on the subject of Josiah Rabb. Sarah had been fairly tight-lipped about the man. Even so, it was obvious that she had feelings for the Colonel - feelings she was doing her best to suppress. To say it was an unusual dilemma was a massive understatement. How often did someone fall for the great great great grandfather of the man she loved? While Avis waited for him to reply, she began removing the old bandage from the wound at the top of his shoulder. It was minor also, but it did seem to curtail arm movement on that side.  
  
Josiah winced and then chuckled ruefully, "I wound up having to convince her about the truth. She thought all of this was some giant delusion. Told me that I didn't exist - that I was just a figment of her imagination."  
  
Avis smiled, she could see Sarah saying something of the sort to the Yankee officer. She stared at him for a moment, "Sarah told you about Harmon Rabb, didn't she?"  
  
He looked down at his hands, "Yes, it seems I look just like him or, I should say, he looks like me - without the mustache."  
  
"Yet you pursued her anyway," Avis' lips were compressed in a thin line.  
  
Josiah looked back up at her, his expression almost defiant, "Yes. I can't help that I fell in love with her. Why shouldn't I pursue her? I believe I can make her happy. I know she makes me happy. There's precious little of that going around in these times."  
  
Avis shook her head, "You're complicating what should be an easy decision. Her destiny does not lie in this century."  
  
"How do you know? Maybe this is her destiny. Why else would this have happened? Why else would I have met her?" He'd been thinking about this quite a bit.   
  
"I don't know and neither do you," Avis stood up, collecting the soiled bandages. She had a pot boiling on the stove. She stared at him for several seconds and then said softly, "You had your soulmate, why are you trying to keep Sarah from hers?" She turned around and walked out, leaving him staring after her.  
  
JAG Headquarters Falls Church, Virginia 1605 Local  
  
"Enter," AJ looked up as Harm marched into his office. He took off his glasses and leaned back, "You've heard from our mystery woman, haven't you?" He gestured for Rabb to have a seat.  
  
Harm dropped into the chair, "Yes sir." He leaned forward, running a hand through his hair, "It was a frustrating call."  
  
AJ scowled, "No lead to Mac's whereabouts? Was this woman just some crackpot?"  
  
"I'm not sure, sir. She said that she thought she knew what happened and that she thinks she can find Mac, but she wouldn't be any more specific." He hesitated for a second, "She said it was hard to explain over the phone. She wants to meet me at 6 p.m. at the White Horse Grill in some little town called Peales Crossroads."  
  
Chegwidden glanced at his watch, "There's no way you can reach the Shenandoah Valley in under two hours."  
  
Harm shook his head, "She said to meet her two days from now. On that particular point, she was very specific - said the timing would be wrong otherwise."  
  
"Whatever the hell that means," AJ looked at Harm in disbelief. "She sounds like a nutcase."  
  
"I know," Harm spread his hands, "But what else can we do? What if she can find Mac? Do we dare pass up the chance just because she sounds... um... eccentric?"  
  
AJ sighed, that was the sticking point. He raised an eyebrow, "You want me to let you go to the meeting."  
  
Harm straightened in his chair, "Yes sir. She made it fairly clear that I was the one to meet with her."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Harm stammered a little. His relationship with Mac wasn't a secret but that didn't mean he wished to discuss it with his commanding officer. He sometimes got the feeling that the Admiral thought he was a bit of an idiot to have waited so long to pursue Mac. "Sir, she said... ah... it was because I was closest to Mac."   
  
Chegwidden sat silently for a long minute, "I don't know, Commander, what if this woman wants you to go somewhere with her? Can you trust her?"  
  
Rabb stiffened a little, "Sir, I'm willing to do whatever I need to do to find Colonel MacKenzie." Damn, was the Admiral about to refuse permission?  
  
AJ rubbed his jaw, "I'm well aware of that, Commander. That's part of the problem." He held up a hand when he saw Harm gathering steam, "You can go, Harm. You're just not going alone. I'm sending Gunny Walters with you."  
  
Too relieved that Chegwidden was going to let him go, Harm didn't even put up a token protest at having a babysitter. After the Admiral dismissed him, he hurried back to his office. Two days. In two days' time, he'd be that much closer to finding Mac.  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1017 Local  
  
Avis wearily put down her tea when Roger tore through the kitchen and out the back door. She'd been half expecting and half dreading this. Going to the window, she watched Corinna climb out of her carriage and hurry up the walkway. Moving towards the front door, she walked into the entry hall as Mrs. Simpson gave a perfunctory knock and sailed in. Spotting Avis, the older woman went to her and gave her a hug, "Oh my dear, Deacon told me what you'd done. I don't know how to thank you. Where is he?"  
  
Resisting the urge to sigh, Avis regarded Corinna steadily, "I didn't do it alone, I couldn't have. You can thank Sarah as well."   
  
To her surprise, Corinna looked embarrassed, "I owe the young lady an apology as well. It doesn't really matter where she's from, she's been a good friend." She stared at the carpet, "It was... mortifying... to realize that you found it necessary for such a charade. Will you forgive me?"  
  
Avis smiled, feeling like some of her burden had been stripped away, "Only if you'll forgive me for lying to you in the first place." She pointed down the hallway, "He's in the downstairs bedroom. He was still asleep when I last checked."  
  
Corinna took a step in that direction and then stopped, "Where is Sarah?"  
  
"Upstairs, in bed. She pushed herself to the point of collapse yesterday."  
  
"Oh dear, will she be all right?" Corinna took half a step back towards Avis and then stopped when the young woman held up a hand.  
  
"I believe she'll be fine, she just needs to rest. Go see Avril. I'll check on Sarah and then join you." Avis watched Corinna nod and walk down the hallway. Glancing at the closed parlor doors, she shook her head. As surprised as she was at Corinna's change of attitude towards Sarah, she had no illusions about the woman's reaction to a Yankee Colonel. Right now, discretion was definitely the better part of valor. She turned to the staircase and started up. Reaching the bedroom, she cautiously opened the door and looked in. When she saw Sarah looking back, Avis smiled and came all the way in, "Good morning. How are you feeling?" She walked up to the bed and put a hand on Sarah's forehead - still a little warm, but not alarmingly so.  
  
"Better. Hungry," Mac pushed herself upright and scooted backward so she could lean against the headboard. "You look tired, though. You should have gotten me up, I could have helped this morning."  
  
Avis sat down in the chair next to the bed, "Don't be silly. You were worn out." She raised an eyebrow, "If I thought it was remotely possible, I'd try to keep you in bed for the rest of the day." When Mac snorted, Avis folded her arms, "That's what I thought. However... " she glared at the brunette, "you are staying in the house. No chores. Enoch is taking care of the stock for me, so the only exertion you're going to have is going up and down the stairs... and that better not be too often."  
  
Mac rolled her eyes and sighed, "Yes, Mother." Growing more serious, she looked at Avis, "Avril and Josiah, how are they?"  
  
"Lucky. Avril's chest wound isn't as bad as I first thought it was. It looks like he was hit from the side, right under the arm. The bullet broke a rib and then changed direction. It went down his side and came out near the hip. Right now, he can't even sit up or move his left arm." She hesitated for just a moment, "Corinna is sitting with him right now. Deacon told her while he was in town taking Matt to the undertaker."  
  
Mac frowned slightly, "I'll try to stay out of her way. I don't want to cause any more problems between you two. Does she know about Josiah?"  
  
Avis reached over and patted her on the leg, "Don't worry about Corinna. She's already apologized to me for her behavior and she's planning to apologize to you. And to answer your other question, she doesn't know about Colonel Rabb. He's fine, by the way, his worst injury seems to be the broken leg. If we can find or make a crutch for him, he'll probably be up and around in a few days."  
  
Mac caught the note of restraint in Avis' voice when she talked about Josiah. She looked at the young woman carefully, "You don't like Josiah, do you?" It was a bit of a shock, it hadn't occurred to her that Avis might dislike the man. In many ways, he was just like Harm.  
  
"Sarah, I don't even know him," Avis hedged and then sighed when it became obvious that Sarah was waiting for more. "I think part of it is the uniform. It's hard to separate him from the people who killed Matt. I know that's unfair. There is a war going on and men are dying every day on both sides."  
  
Mac nodded thoughtfully, she could well understand Avis' point of view. This war had and would cost the South dearly. Their culture, their economy, their land and a generation of men."What's the other part?"  
  
Avis looked even more pensive, "I suppose you've realized he's in love with you?"  
  
Again, Mac nodded, looking down at her hands, "He told me."  
  
"Even though he knows you're in love with another man? A descendent of his?"  
  
Mac took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling before returning her gaze to her hands. "I made that clear from the beginning. I haven't tried to encourage him but... I swear, Rabb men are like a force of nature when they put their minds to it. Harm's the same way." She paused for a moment, "Did you know that Josiah lost his wife two years ago? As well as his youngest son?"  
  
"He carries the loss with him," Avis said quietly, focusing on a picture on the wall. There was a turbulence growing around Sarah that was becoming more disturbing all the time. At times, it was difficult to look directly at her. It hadn't happened very often and only once before had it been as strong as it was at this moment. That had been when she saw Sarah come out of the barn on that day. In a way, it was fortunate that Hunter had knocked her half silly. Her reaction to what she saw around the other woman probably would have warned Milroy that something was wrong. It might have been Sarah who was killed instead of Hunter. She'd never quite been able to bring the subject up with Sarah. Now, Avis had a sinking feeling that this disturbance had to do with their attempt to return Sarah to her own century and that, somehow, Josiah was involved.  
  
Mac kept her eyes on her hands, picking at the covers, "This is the first time he's let himself feel anything since her death and... well... Avis, he's so like Harm in so many ways. Caring, kind, considerate, stupidly stubbornly brave... " She chuckled wryly, "Of course, in some ways, he's nothing at all like Harm. I think I knew within a week how he felt about me. With Harm, for a long time I wasn't sure if we'd ever get past being friends. Sometimes, I wasn't sure we were even that." She sighed, "It's all so confusing... " She glanced up and watched Avis' gaze slip away from her and fasten on the far wall. Oh damn. She'd caught that particular move of Avis' before. Their very first meeting, as a matter of fact. After getting to know Avis better, she'd finally classified it as the 'I See Scary Things' look. "Avis? What's wrong?"  
  
Avis sighed, glanced at Mac and looked down at her hands, "Colonel Rabb is going to try to convince you to stay. I think it's wrong of him to pressure you that way." She steeled herself and stared at the brunette, "I know you have feelings for him but could it be because he is so much like your Harm?"  
  
Mac rubbed at her temples, "Probably, I'm not sure... at first, I think that was true, but later... oh god, I don't know what to do. I know Josiah is not Harm but he's a good man." She let her hands fall back into her lap and stared up at the ceiling, "They're both good men and I don't know how to avoid hurting either of them."  
  
"That's because you can't." Avis stood up, "This has to be your decision. I will listen whenever you need me but I can't decide for you. You have two weeks, Sarah." She started out of the room and then stopped at the doorway, "I'll be down with Avril and Corinna. I still think you should rest. Tomorrow is soon enough to leap back into the fray."  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 0835 Local  
  
Mac squared her shoulders and tapped on the parlor door. She had stayed in bed most of yesterday but it was more about hiding than resting. There was a lot to think about. She knew what she had to do, she just didn't want to do it.   
  
Josiah looked up at the knock on the door. He broke into a delighted grin when the parlor door slid open to reveal Mac, "Sarah! Thank God, are you all right? Miss Payne said you'd overexerted yourself. Have you been ill?"  
  
Mac waved a disparaging hand, "I'm feeling much better now, Josiah. I just needed to rest. I'd gotten a cut on my arm that became infected and I wound up in bed for a week. It didn't do much for my stamina," She hoped he wouldn't pursue the matter any further. There was no point in upsetting him over little things, not when she could do it with the big stuff.  
  
He held out a hand as she walked up to his bed. "Let me look at you." He knew he was smiling foolishly at her but he couldn't help himself, he'd missed her so much.  
  
She raised an eyebrow as he looked her up and down and then she folded her arms, "Well?"  
  
Josiah made a show of thinking it over, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "I must admit that while I have become quite fond of you in trousers, I believe it's possible that I can adjust to this latest style. It gives you a certain air of genteel domesticity. I can almost see you sitting by the fire, darning socks."  
  
Mac shook her head and fixed him with a mock glare, "I suggest you hang on to that image while I kick your six. What did I tell you about doing stupid things?"  
  
"That you would be amazed and gratified at the lengths I went to to gain your attention?" Josiah folded his hands and attempted an air of innocent inquiry. It was only half in jest. He'd been in enough arguments with Sarah to know that it was easier to refrain from making her seriously angry.  
  
"You're incorrigible," Mac rolled her eyes and dropped into the chair that was by his bedside. "Josiah, what were you doing with that cavalry unit? What about your command?"  
  
Josiah ran a finger across his mustache, "I joined them to reconnoiter the terrain and learn about the roads. It was only supposed to be for two days." He raised his hands slightly, "Then we ran into Reb militia and here I am."  
  
Mac raised an eyebrow, "Your superiors thought that a brigade commander was the best man for that job? Have they lost all sense?"  
  
He folded his arms and shrugged, wincing a little when his shoulder twinged, "So I called in a few favors. I needed to see you. From what your letter said, it didn't sound like I had much time." He paused and looked down, "One thing I wanted to say to you was that I'm sorry, I should have been able to protect you from Caine."  
  
"Josiah, don't. It was my fault for becoming complacent. Heaven knows Tommy warned me often enough about Ezra Caine." Steeling herself, Mac sat upright, "But I'm afraid you're right. You don't have much time - and that's something we need to talk about."  
  
Josiah dropped his hands down in his lap and gave her a sideways glance, "I think I can guess... You've made up your mind, haven't you? You're going to go back to your own time."  
  
Mac closed her eyes. This was harder than she thought it would be. "I have to try, Josiah, I have a life in that century." She turned dark eyes towards him, "Can you understand? This hasn't been an easy decision. I feel like I'm being torn in two."  
  
He stared at her silently. It would be so easy to let the bitterness out, to rail at about the unfairness of it all but, in the end, what would it gain? Sarah had been set on this course from the moment she accepted that all of this was real and not a dream. He had no one to blame but himself for pursuing his self-appointed quest to win her heart. He hadn't succeeded enough to keep Sarah here but had had enough success to ensure that leaving would cause her pain. It was a shabby way to treat someone you loved and yet... he couldn't quite tear himself away. He wanted to spend every waking moment with her. It would have to last him a lifetime.  
  
"Josiah?" Oh god, was he going to wind up hating her? Mac found that thought almost as painful as walking away was going to be from this man.  
  
He cleared his throat, "Sarah... " He faltered for a moment and then reached for her hand, "Sarah, I meant what I said when we first realized that you were in the wrong century. I will do what I can to help you get back to your own time - even if it's nothing more than wishing you Godspeed." He caressed her hand, causing little shivers to run down her spine, and then looked at her intently, "Just remember that if this plan of Miss Payne's doesn't work, I'll be waiting for you."  
  
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1750 Local  
  
"There it is, Gunny, coming up on the left," Harm pointed at the neon sign proclaiming 'White Horse Grill'. He was doing his best to maintain a calm facade in front of Walters but he had the feeling that the Gunnery Sergeant saw right through him. As soon as they came to a halt, he was out of the car, trying not to bounce on his heels while he waited for the Gunny. The two men walked in and stood in the entryway, uncertainly. The place was moderately busy, more than Harm would have expected on a Thursday night in a town as small as Peales Crossroads. A number of patrons were eyeing them with a good deal of curiosity. It was obvious they didn't get too many uniformed military personnel through these parts. Surely, someone would have noticed Mac.  
  
Harm started to mention his thought to the Gunny when a small, silver-haired woman came towards them, "Commander Rabb? I'm Annabel Simpson. Thank you for coming out this way." She turned bright eyes to Gunny Walters, "And who might you be, young man?"  
  
Gunny glanced at the Commander before nodding to Annabel, he hadn't been called 'young man' in years, "Gunnery Sergeant Walters, ma'am."  
  
Annabel tapped her chin, "Are you a friend of Miss Sarah's?"  
  
"Yes ma'am, do you know where she is? We've all been worried." Walters was speaking no less than the truth, he was genuinely fond of the Colonel. He did his best to keep an eye out for her whenever he could. For a Marine as squared away and by the book as she was, her predilection for trouble was exceeded only by the Commander's.  
  
"As well you should be," Annabel turned and headed down the hallway, gesturing for the two men to follow her. Harm glanced at Gunny and shrugged. They followed her into a small office. She sat down behind an old oak desk and motioned for the Gunny to shut the door. Annabel folded her hands and placed them on the desk, "Gentlemen, I'm going to tell you what I believe has happened and what I hope to do to remedy the situation. All I ask is that you keep an open mind and I'll try to answer your questions," She glanced at her watch, "We have to be on Massanutten Mountain in three hours." With that, she launched into an account of Mac's arrival and subsequent departure from the White Horse Grill.  
  
"Wait a minute," Harm interrupted, "She drove up Massa... "  
  
"Massanutten," Annabel supplied helpfully.  
  
"Massanutten Mountain and the storm wasn't over yet? My God, she probably had an accident! Did you tell anybody? Has anyone looked? Why didn't you call us sooner?" Harm was clearly agitated.  
  
"Calm down, young man," Annabel frowned at the Commander, "Massanutten has been searched. It's alway searched. The mountain has a reputation for accidents. I'm fairly certain that Sarah did have an accident but the problem isn't where to look but when."  
  
Harm and the Gunny stared at her in surprise and then looked at each other. Harm took a deep breath, "Excuse me? Did you say when?"  
  
Annabel nodded firmly, "I did."  
  
Harm stared at the floor, shaking his head. Walters watched him silently. "I don't believe this," he finally muttered, looking up to glare at Annabel, "You've strung us along for two days... TWO DAYS!... so you can feed us some cock and bull story?!" He climbed to his feet as his voice rose, "What was it? Aliens? Mac got sucked up into a time-traveling spaceship? There's a magic portal up there? Dear God, I don't believe this! Is this your idea of a joke?"  
  
"Enough! This most certainly is NOT a joke!" Annabel picked up a battered and scarred portfolio and slammed it down on the desk. Harm fell silent, still glaring at her. She took a deep breath, putting a hand on the cover of the portfolio, "My great-great-great grandfather was a Major in the Confederate army. He served under General John B. Gordon. Don't interrupt!" She waited for Harm to subside and then continued, "In the fall of 1864, he was home here in the Valley. Grandpa Simpson was an artist and he was actually quite good." She opened the portfolio, "Look at these."  
  
Gunny Walters got up and moved to the desk. After a long pause, Harm walked over as well. Annabel carefully turned the pages. Despite his aggravation and impatience, Harm couldn't help feeling somewhat fascinated. Annabel had been right, her ancestor was talented. Here were scenes of life from one hundred and forty years ago. There were sketches of camplife, scenery, portraits of fellow officers and scenes of battle. Annabel pointed out several portraits as she continued to turn the pages, "That's General Gordon and that's Capt. Matthew Landers, a friend. He was killed in a skirmish with Union cavalry. This is his mother Corinna Simpson and this is his fiancee, Avis Payne..." She hesitated for just a moment and then turned the next page.  
  
Walters sucked in a breath and Harm dropped both hands to the desk to brace himself. They were looking at a portrait of Mac. She was wearing a little half-smile as she gazed off to the side. Annabel pointed to the necklace she was wearing, "That's the necklace I gave her that night." She flipped back a page to Avis and pointed to the necklace she was wearing.  
  
Gunny leaned in for a closer look and then glanced up at Annabel, "It's the same design."  
  
Annabel shook her head, "It's the same necklace. There was only one. It was made especially for Avis Payne by her godfather, a silversmith. It was a christening gift and it's been passed down through the generations." The two men stared at her and she sighed, "Don't you see? Somehow, Sarah has landed in the Shenandoah Valley in 1864. The good news is that she's managed to find the one person who would not only believe her but could also figure out how to get her back to us. If I've interpreted what I've been reading correctly, it will be tonight."  
  
"I don't understand, ma'am," Walters gave her a puzzled look, "If you knew it would be tonight, why did you call two days ago? Why call us at all? Why not wait for Colonel MacKenzie to reappear and let her call us?" He didn't know what to think. That portrait looked authentic. This was incredibly far-fetched, but clearly, getting angry like the Commander was doing was not going to get them any answers. Since Rabb was inadvertently playing Bad Cop, he would play Good Cop and see if it was possible to sort all of this out.  
  
Looking uncomfortable, Annabel sat back down and picked up a red leather covered volume that was almost brown with age, "I called because I want her to have a reason to come back and I didn't know how long it would take to find the man she's in love with." She looked at Rabb, "I knew you existed but I didn't know where or who you were. The problem is that I'm not sure that Sarah is going to want to return."  
  
"What?! That's ludicrous! Why wouldn't she come back?" Harm took a breath. Dammit, he was buying into this lunatic woman's story! This had to be some sort of hoax.  
  
Annabel fixed him with a glare, "Do you love her? Because she's met someone back then who has fallen in love with her and she's having a hard time resisting."  
  
Harm struggled to keep his temper in check, "What the hell are you talking about? Now you're telling me that Mac is cheating on me? In the nineteenth century? How in the world could you claim to know something like that? This is some fantasy life you've got going, lady, this story gets more unbelievable all the time!"  
  
"How were you able to find out anything? Who's the man?" Walters jumped in, hoping to soothe matters. Annabel looked like she was about to blow a gasket. "I don't think the Colonel is someone who is easily swayed." He didn't look at Rabb at all, he was taking a guess based on his knowledge of the Colonel as an officer.  
  
Annabel fixed Harm with a gimlet stare and then turned to the Gunny. She tapped the old book, "It took me a while to find this particular volume. Avis kept a journal." She opened it carefully to a bookmarked page, adjusted her glasses and began to read, "Deacon Turner brought me a guest today. He said I would enjoy the mystery. Enjoy might be too strong a word - Sarah is an unusual woman in unusual circumstances. I would feel better if I didn't have such a sense of foreboding. I'll have to hide her in plain view. She needs time to recover and I need time to think about her problem. In these dark days, strangers are regarded with suspicion and even hostility. Fortunately, not only is she an intelligent woman, she is also fluent in a number of languages. We've come up with a story that has a basis in truth. She will be an acquaintance from Russia whom I met while abroad, a Miss Sasha Natalya Dzurick, She was visiting our fair state when her carriage was set upon by ruffians. They killed her driver and left her for dead. Deacon found her and brought her to me."   
  
Lowering the journal, Annabel gazed at the two men. Gunnery Sergeant Walters looked astonished while Commander Rabb was white-faced with shock. Forgetting her ire with the man, Annabel looked at the Commander with concern, "Are you all right? Would you like a glass of water, young man?"  
  
Numbly, Harm shook his head, "How did you know that name?"  
  
Confused, Annabel glanced at Walters and then back at Rabb, "What name?"  
  
"Dzurick. How did you know it?" Harm felt like his world had just been yanked out from under him. What the hell was going on? This time-travel theory was ridiculous. It had to be! But how would this woman have known about the Bacovian royal family and Mac's involvement with them? It couldn't be true... but if it was, then... he lurched forward, 'Left for dead'? Oh dear God... "Mac was hurt? How?"  
  
"Commander, I'm only reading what's in the journal. I've never heard the name before." Annabel shook her head, "I don't know exactly how Sarah was hurt, this first entry is the only time Avis mentions it." She held up the journal, "There's a fair number of entries, it looks like Sarah was a guest of Avis' for six weeks."  
  
"Wait a minute," Gunny held up a hand, "The Colonel has only been gone a week."  
  
"In this century. From what I've read, it looks like Sarah has been in the 1800's for about three months." Annabel shrugged, "I don't understand why there's a difference. Maybe those science fiction writers were on to something with the parallel universe theories. It gives me a headache when I try to figure it out."  
  
She opened another bookmarked page, "Listen to this entry - Tonight, we go up the mountain. God willing, Sarah will reach her home. At least, I hope she will. Josiah Rabb has made no secret of his feelings for her. I'm afraid he will weaken her resolve. I know she carries a sense of guilt because he was wounded while searching for her. He knows that Sarah loves another man but that did not stop him from pursuing her. For that, I cannot like him although, otherwise, he seems to be a pleasant man. He's causing Sarah undue heartache and jeopardizing her chance to return. If it does not happen tonight, it may never happen and she will be trapped here. I have not told Sarah any of this. She must make her own decision and I fear to influence her. She has become like family and while I know it's best that she return, I would rejoice to have her stay." Annabel stopped reading and put the journal down.  
  
Gunny looked at Harm in surprise, "Do you know who Josiah Rabb is, sir?"  
  
Harm shook his head, "I have no idea. I've never paid that much attention to the family tree." He looked at Annabel, "May I see the journal?"  
  
"Yes, but first I'd like to show you one more thing," Annabel went back to the portfolio and paged through it quickly. Finding the sketch she was looking for, she turned the tome around and pointed, "This is Josiah Rabb."  
  
Harm sucked in a breath, he was looking at a portrait of his father. 


	27. The End

A/N: Sorry about the delay in posting. RL reared its ugly head and seriously cut into my writing time. On the other hand, this is it except for an epilogue.   
  
Present Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1830 Local  
  
Gunny stared at Harm, "It's you, sir."  
  
Harm shook his head, feeling somewhat stupefied, "It's my father." He looked up at Annabel, "What do we have to do?" This was, by far, the craziest thing he'd ever gotten involved in. How was he going to explain it to the Admiral?  
  
Annabel checked her watch, "We need to leave in the next forty-five minutes." She tapped her fingers on the desk and then looked at the two men, "Did either of you bring a gun?"  
  
Gunny nodded at the same time Harm said, "What? Why?"  
  
She shook her head, "I don't know for sure, I find I feel less anxious when I think that you're both armed. There's no telling what will happen up there."  
  
Harm stared at her, what could he say to reasoning like that? He found himself rubbing his forehead and abruptly dropped his hand. Taking a deep breath, he looked at Annabel, "May I see the journal?"  
  
She nodded, handing it over to him, "That red bookmark is the first reference I found to Sarah, start there. I'm afraid it won't be easy to read."  
  
Harm took the journal, opening it at the marked page and blinked, "Good grief." Gunny watched, fighting a grin, as the Commander turned the book this way and that. He looked over at Annabel, "Is this some kind of a joke?"  
  
Walters stretched out a hand, "May I, sir?" Harm gave him the journal. Gunny opened it up and scanned through the pages. He looked over at Annabel, "This looks like some of the papers from my mother-in-law's family." He turned back to Harm to explain, "They were from the mountains up around Asheville. They were poor to begin with but after the war, it was even worse. Grandma Havers had to make everything last as long as possible. When she reached the end of her diary, she turned it upside down and started over, writing between the lines of what was already written. Then she started writing in the margins. I get a headache just looking at it, but my wife can follow it."   
  
Annabel smiled at him, "I thought you were a Southerner, do you hail from North Carolina, too?"  
  
"Yes'm, down Raleigh way," Gunny smiled back, "My friends call me Dubby." He offered the book to Harm.  
  
"Is that what's going on here?" Harm took the journal back and stared at it intently, trying to decipher it. "This looks like another language."  
  
Annabel smiled, "That's because people didn't print back then. If you're not used to reading cursive writing, I suppose it could look like a foreign language." She stood up and both men rose with her. She put her hand out for the journal, "I think we should get going. I've got an old International Scout that should get us up the mountain." Annabel turned around and lifted a keyring off a small hook on the wall and then moved to a filing cabinet in the corner. Pulling open the first drawer, she reached behind the files and pulled out an old Colt revolver. Placing it on top of the cabinet, she reached back in and pulled out a box of shells.  
  
Harm eyed her in alarm while Gunny whistled in appreciation. He walked over and looked at the pistol, "That's a beauty, ma'am. Do you mind?"  
  
Annabel waved a hand, "Please do. My grandfather brought it home from World War I. I like to keep it handy, my Daddy taught me to shoot with it." She caught the look on Harm's face and chuckled, "Come now, Commander, why do you think we Southerners are generally so polite? Most of us are armed." Closing the drawer, she motioned to the door, "Shall we go?"   
  
Past Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1430 Local  
  
Mac shaded her eyes as she watched Avis and Avril make their way down the hill. It had been two weeks and both he and Josiah had done a remarkable job of healing. It made a certain kind of sense, only the most robust people would survive this era. She was currently ensconced in a porch rocker, in between chores. Tonight, she and Avis would drive up Massanutten Mountain and this would be over, one way or another. Mac was aware that Avis wasn't quite sure what was going to happen, only that it would be momentous. She shook her head, time travel certainly fell in that category.  
  
She heard the door open and then the familiar thump/step that heralded Josiah Rabb's approach. Deacon had fastened a crosspiece on the end of a pair of splints and created a sort of walking cast for the Colonel. Every day, he got a little better at moving although he would never have the element of surprise while he was wearing it. Mac heard him come up behind her and reached up to pat the hand he dropped on her shoulder, "Hey."  
  
"Afternoon," he dropped into the other rocker and gazed off in the direction she was looking. "I see our lovebirds have been out walking. Has he kissed her yet?"  
  
"Josiah!" Mac pretended to be scandalized, "Major Simpson is a gentleman."  
  
"And Miss Payne is a lady," Josiah agreed with a smile, "So did he?"  
  
"Twice," Mac looked at him with a smug grin. Josiah had accepted her leaving with a good deal more graciousness than she would have expected. Things were now like they'd been between her and Harm for so many years, good friends with an unacknowledged undercurrent running between them. In some ways, that made it even harder to leave, knowing she would never see him again.  
  
"About time," he replied laconically, stretching out his long legs and slouching down in the rocker.  
  
"Oh stop," Mac nudged his leg with her foot.   
  
"What?" Josiah raised an eyebrow, "When I was his age, I'd already gotten Cassie to the altar. You know, these Southerners can carry politeness too far."  
  
"Caveman," Mac smiled fondly. Avril and Josiah were well on their way to being friends. They respected each other as officers and had progressed from there. Without the pressures of command, Mac had been seeing a whole other side of Josiah. He had a wonderfully dry sense of humor, a great deal of pride in his children and a surprisingly good singing voice. That was one thing Mac had noticed in this era, people sang freely whenever the spirit moved them. Avis always sang in the kitchen, she had a pleasant alto voice. She'd taught Mac several songs and reminded her of others that she had learned as a child. With the men here, their normal duets had become a quartet with Josiah's tenor and Avril's baritone harmonizing nicely together. At least one or two evenings a week were spent around the piano. Other nights were spent reading and around the chess board. Mac and Avril were locked in battle with Avis and Josiah kibitzing freely and often without regard for which side they were on at any given moment. Mac had also been surprised to discover that Avril was an artist and one evening was spent with all of them posing for sketches. This was the family life she had fantasized about as a little girl.  
  
"Tonight's the night, isn't it?" Josiah kept his voice neutral.  
  
Mac nodded, not knowing quite what to say at the moment. How was she going to get through goodbye?  
  
"Avril and I would feel a lot better if you'd let us come along." They'd been over this before but he couldn't help trying again.  
  
"Avis said no. I have to respect her decisions. You know she has her reasons," Mac eyed him anxiously, not wanting to fight on their last day. Now that he was no longer actively pursuing Mac, Avis had become more cordial to him, but she had been adamant about this. Neither Avril nor Josiah could accompany them.  
  
Josiah grunted. He and Avril had talked it over and then gone to see Deacon Turner. He had agreed to lend them a wagon and team. If they couldn't go with the ladies, they could damn well follow.  
  
Mac breathed a sigh of relief that he had decided not to argue and their conversation turned to more pleasant topics.  
  
Present Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 2040 Local  
  
Annabel came to a halt just before a curve and turned off the truck. Harm looked over at her, "Now what?"  
  
"We wait," she opened the door and got out of the truck. Gunny and then Harm followed suit.   
  
Harm looked up and down the road a little nervously, "Don't you think we should get out of the middle of road? Someone's going to come barreling around these curves and plow right into us."  
  
"No one is going to come," Annabel sounded absolutely certain and it made the hair on the back of Harm's neck rise. Not for the last time, he wondered what the hell he was doing following this crazy old woman. If it hadn't been for that portrait of Mac... He shook his head and turned to Gunny Walters, accepting the sidearm and holster the man offered him. Walters had had a veritable arsenal in the trunk of the government sedan. The Gunny had gone with the Marine standard issue automatic rifle which he currently had slung around his neck.  
  
"Expecting trouble, Gunny?" Harm asked dryly. He winced a little at the tone of voice he'd used. All of this was getting to him.  
  
"Always, sir," Walters ignored the Commander's obvious nerves. He was more than a little worried about the Colonel and he merely liked her. He could only imagine how Rabb was feeling. If it had been his wife who was missing, he'd be quite willing to kill someone by now.  
  
"Gentlemen." Both men whirled around at that one word and Annabel pointed up the road. A fog was beginning to rise from the ground.  
  
"Sweet Jesus," Gunny breathed, his eyes wide. Up until this point, he hadn't really and truly believed. He followed Harm as the Commander moved up to stand next to Annabel.  
  
"What do we do?" Harm kept his eyes on the fog. It was growing thicker but it wasn't spreading out.  
  
Annabel looked up at him with sympathy in her eyes, "We wait. She has to come to us."  
  
They stood and watched as it grew taller and more dense. Harm walked up to it and stared. The edge was sharply defined like it had been cut by a knife. He looked back at Annabel, "Mac drove into this?"  
  
She nodded, "Yes, although with the mist and rain that night, she probably didn't realize it was there." Both men jumped as a woman's shriek suddenly pierced the night. As one, they started towards the fog. "Don't go in!" Annabel commanded as she marched up to them. They froze as the figure of a woman in a long dress appeared. Annabel moved in front of Harm and Gunny, her face hard, "Not tonight, Mary Patrick. Go back. You'll not kill anyone tonight."  
  
Gunny and Harm stared at each other in amazement as the apparition faded from sight, still wailing. Harm squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again. This could not be happening. Five minutes passed and then ten, Harm looked over at Annabel, "How long should this take?"  
  
She shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know. No one's ever timed something like this. Why bother? Who would believe them?"  
  
The minutes dragged on and Harm took to pacing in front of fog, staring anxiously in. The sound of a gunshot made all three jump and then Harm clearly heard a woman scream 'Sarah!' "Oh my god, Mac!" he turned and plunged into the fog without a second thought, Gunny only a step behind.  
  
"No! Wait!" Annabel rushed forward and then stopped, watching helplessly as the two men disappeared.  
  
Past Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1910 Local  
  
Mac and Avis stood together as Avril checked over the horses' harness once more. It was time to leave and Mac wasn't sure if she could find the strength to walk away from these people. Deacon Turner and his entire family had shown up about 20 minutes ago to say their goodbyes. Corinna had been by in the afternoon. As far as she knew, Mac was returning North. It had been a tearful farewell for both of them. Mac had grown fond of the feisty, opinionated older woman. Corinna had accepted Josiah's presence without a word. Avril had introduced him as a friend and fellow officer and left it at that.  
  
"Avril, enough," Avis finally said. "We have to leave." She knew Sarah was finding it difficult to actually start this journey. It wasn't just that she'd become close to everyone here. Although she had never expressed any doubts about returning to her own time, from some of her questions, it was obvious that she was worried about the consequences of being gone for so long. Avis could sympathize, as an explanation, the truth would be unbelievable. However, staying wasn't an option - of that, Avis was certain. Sarah's fate did not lie in the past. As much as she would miss the brunette, as her friend, she would see to it that Sarah returned home.  
  
There was a final round of hugs and then the two women climbed into the carriage. Waving one more time, they started on their way. Avril and Josiah watched them drive out of sight and then turned to Deacon. Turner gestured to his wagon, "Go on, you two keep those ladies safe until Miss Sarah's on her way. An' bring back my rig in one piece if you don't mind. Chandra and me'll stay here and keep an eye on Miss Avis' place."  
  
********  
  
Avis kept the horses at a brisk walk as they wound their way up Massanutten. Mac sat tensely beside her. Neither one felt much like talking. The sunset had been spectacular and dark had fallen quickly. Mac glanced over at Avis. In an hour or so, God willing, this episode would be over. She would be back in her own time and everyone she'd come to know in this era would be gone to dust. The sense of loss she was already feeling was profound. Would she be able to learn the fates of these people beyond their dates of birth and death? Would Harm know anything about Josiah Rabb? Surely Annabel Simpson would be able to tell her how Avis, Avril and Corinna survived the war and Reconstruction? Sturgis might be the easiest to get information out of, being the Civil War buff, probably all she would have to do would be to get him started.  
  
Mac looked around as they made their way higher. Brilliant moonlight turned the road to silver and cast a white light on all it touched, making the darkness under the trees seem even blacker. It was like a monochromatic high noon. It had been years since she'd been any place so remote that there was no ambient lighting to spoil the view. She noted that the moon was full tonight. Something Annabel had said to her all those weeks ago suddenly came to mind and she turned back to Avis, "That's a blue moon, isn't it? That's what you've been waiting for?"  
  
Avis raised an eyebrow, "Yes. Hopefully, the stories I've heard are true. Mind you, usually all they say is that people disappear - no one's ever figured out where they went." She smiled a little wistfully, "I suppose I won't know for sure where you'll go, either. I'm praying it's back where you belong."  
  
"Amen to that," Mac grinned, "If I wind up in the Revolutionary War, the powers that be are going to get a severe talking to." She looked forward again, "There was a ground fog that night, will that happen again or are we looking for a door that says 'Time Travelers - Exit Only'?  
  
Chuckling, Avis shook her head, "I'm not quite sure, I think I'll know it when I see it." They fell silent again, listening to the rhythm of horseshoes hitting the macadam surface. Suddenly, Avis shivered and sat up straighter, glancing around.  
  
"What is it? Are we close?" Mac sat up straighter too, looking at Avis with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. Those feelings changed to alarm when Avis abruptly sent the horses into a gallop. Grabbing at the metal armrest, Mac tried to look in all directions at once. Her heart began hammering when she saw a group of horsemen coming up behind them. Goddammit! Who the hell were these guys? Then she was grabbing at the seatback as Avis hauled the team to a halt. Slewing around in her seat she saw two horsemen blocking the road ahead. She looked back at Avis, "Who are they?"  
  
Avis looked grim, "The Milroys." There was no time for more conversation as the horsemen overtook them from behind. Rough hands yanked them both out of the carriage and then they were standing amidst a half dozen men. Avis shook off the hand holding her arm and glared at one of the men, "You're making a mistake, Jubal."  
  
Jubal eyed her with a grin, "I'd say the shoe was on the other foot, Miss Avis. You oughta know better than to come up here by yourself. People disappear off this here mountain all the time."  
  
"People die on this mountain, Jubal." Avis' voice took on an eerie calm as she looked around the group, "I give you fair warning. Continue down this path and this will be the last act you do on this earth." Standing slightly behind, Mac couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine. When Avis slid into 'soothsayer' mode, she could be scary as hell. The men Mac had standing on either side of her apparently felt the same way. A sense of fear and uncertainty was beginning to radiate from both. She kept as still as possible, not wanting to distract from the emotional web Avis was weaving.  
  
Jubal's grin faltered for a second and then he swaggered up to Avis, drawing out his revolver, "What are you going to do? Call lightning down on our heads? What if I just kill you right now?"  
  
She stared at him, "You'll seal the fate of yourself and these men. It's not my doing, I merely foretell. None of you will leave this mountain alive."  
  
"Jubal, " one of the men next to Mac spoke up, "It ain't worth it. I got family to think of." Some of the other men shifted uncomfortably in muttered agreement.  
  
Jubal rounded on them, waving his arms, "What the hell's wrong with you? Can't you see she's just playin' us?"  
  
A tall, thin man stepped up, "Damn, Jubal, you can't tell me she don't have the sight. What about Cyrus Plainfield? I was there at McNair's store when she told him not to go hunting up near Swift Run Gap. Old fool went anyway and damn near got killed by a bear." The man glanced at Avis and back at Jubal, "I don't know why I let you talk me into this. Cousin or no, I ain't dying just 'cause Hunter had no more sense than a block of wood. He shoulda knowed better." He turned around and marched back to his horse. Two other men looked nervously from Avis to Jubal and then followed the first man. Mac let out a quiet breath, the odds were beginning to look a little better. The two men that were still with Jubal didn't look all that happy about it. Jubal, on the other hand, was working himself into a rage.   
  
Mac tensed as he swung back towards Avis, anger rolling off him in waves. When Jubal advanced on the young blonde and pulled back the hand holding the pistol, she moved. Picking up a foot, Mac drove a sidekick into the leg of the man standing next to her. Hitting him just below the knee, she was already lunging forward when he collapsed with a scream. Shoving Avis out of the way, she stepped into Jubal's swing. Catching his wrist with her left hand and a handful of coat with her right, she pivoted with him, using his momentum to spin him around and down. As he stumbled to his knees, Mac let go of his coat and grabbed the barrel of the pistol, yanking it backwards out of his hand and breaking his finger in the process. By the time the third man managed to take a step, Mac had the revolver trained on him. Jubal was curled on ground, cradling his hand against his chest.  
  
She looked over at Avis who was just climbing to her feet; Mac's shove had sent her tumbling, "Are you all right?" Avis nodded and Mac tilted her head towards the carriage, "Get in and get ready to go." Looking back at the men, she gestured with the revolver, "Throw your weapons out - slowly - and back away."  
  
"Sarah?"  
  
Mac glanced back to see Avis standing and staring up the road, "What's wrong?"  
  
Avis pointed and said in strained voice, "I don't think we need to go anywhere." ***** ****** Mac felt a chill at her words and backed up, still keeping her revolver trained on the three men. Looking to where Avis had pointed, she inhaled sharply. There was a fog rising out of the road at the curve that was growing thicker with every passing second.  
  
"Avis... ," that was all she got out when there was the crack of a gunshot. Mac staggered and fell, it felt like someone had hit her leg with a bat. A few moments later, the pain struck and she choked back a groan. Goddammit, her leg felt like it was on fire. She forced her eyes open. Where was the pistol? She had to keep those men at bay. Where the hell had that shot come from?  
  
"Sarah!!" Avis dropped down beside her, hands fluttering anxiously over the wound. Between the moonlight and Sarah's dark trousers, it was difficult to see how badly she was hit.  
  
"Avis, the gun... need to find it... hurry," Mac pushed at the young woman as she struggled to sit up, gasping at the effort.  
  
"I declare, woman, you got more lives than a cat."  
  
Mac froze at the sound of that voice, the fear that washed through her on top of the pain made her feel faint. Ezra Caine.  
  
Avis recoiled, buffeted by the emotional tumult that Sarah was experiencing and the essence of evil that emanated the man standing in front of them. She was no stranger to the evil acts that men did, Judson Peavey was a case in point, but this was the first time she'd met someone who fairly reeked of it. Small wonder that Sarah was feeling terrified.  
  
Caine smiled down at the women and then gestured to the two men who were following him, "Hey Garrett, Hobson, c'mon an' say hey to Colonel Mac. Appears she din't die a'tall." Garrett sauntered over and gave Mac a leering smile. He had a carbine cradled in his arms. Hobson just stared at her, his expression making her shiver. Caine looked from them down to Mac, "Ain't it fortunate? Us meetin' up like this? When me 'n the boys heard ol' Judson got done in by a woman, we jist naturally got curious. Surprised the hell out of us when word got around that it warn't no foreigner but some Yankee woman named MacKenzie - well, we figgered we'd come take a look." He leaned down and winked at Mac, "You n' me still got us some unfinished business." Behind him, Avis could see Jubal and the Milroy Sarah had kicked, struggling to their feet. The three kept a sullen distance from Caine and his men. Ezra nudged at Mac with his toe, "Git up on your feet, Colonel Mac. Thar's no lollygagging in this here army." Garrett and Hobson chuckled appreciatively.  
  
"What?" Avis, stared at him in disbelief, "She's been shot. She can't get up."   
  
She barely suppressed a squeak of surprise when Caine reached over and yanked her upright, "This ain't none of yore business, Missy." He spun her over to Garrett and laughed, "Thar you go, Doan't say I never give you nuthin'."   
  
"No!" Caine turned back to see Mac struggling to her feet. She finally made it, swaying dangerously on one leg, her face pale and sweaty. Glaring at Caine, she ground out, "Leave her alone."  
  
The smile vanished off Caine's face as he took a menacing step towards her. Mac took a limping step backward. He followed after her, pulling out his revolver. Mac stopped and he put the barrel on her chest and shoved. She staggered, bringing her hands up on both sides of the gun. Before he quite realized what she was doing, Mac brought her hands together. One hit the gun barrel, forcing it to the right at the same time the other hit his wrist forcing it left. In the time it took Caine to inhale, Mac had the revolver out of his hand and aimed at his head, her thumb pulling the hammer back.  
  
"Don't do it, Colonel Mac," Garrett's voice held a deadly menace.  
  
Unwilling to take her eyes off of Caine for even a moment, Mac eased a limping step to the side so she could see both men. What she saw had her slumping in defeat. Garrett had a large knife pressed against Avis' throat. With infinite reluctance, Mac carefully released the hammer and lowered the pistol. Caine lunged forward, snatching the revolver out of her hands. With an oath, he backhanded her with the pistol, dropping her to the ground.  
  
Gunfire suddenly erupted almost as soon as Mac hit the ground. Caine staggered, his hand going to his side, and one of the Milroys collapsed. Everywhere, men scattered and dove for cover, most scrambling to the downhill side of the road. Within moments, a firefight had broken out. Avis scrambled on her hands and knees over to where Mac lay, unmoving. It was awkward going in a dress and Avis found herself cursing her slow progress. Once she reached Sarah, she stretched out a hand and breathed a sigh of relief when she felt a pulse. Twisting around, she looked up the road to the curve. The fog now reached a good twelve feet and seemed impenetrable. Twenty-five yards away, it might as well have been a mile. The only way she would get Sarah to it would be to drag her there, something she wasn't sure she could accomplish without getting both of them killed.  
  
The sound of gunfire rose and fell, some of the bullets whizzing overhead. Avis stayed prone, working her way around to Mac's injured leg. Reaching out, she grimaced, the pant leg was becoming soaked in blood. Pulling her dress out of the way, Avis tore up one of her petticoats, using it to staunch and bandage the wound. As she worked she talked quietly, "Sarah? Sarah, wake up. Can you hear me? Sarah?" After what seemed like an eternity, she was rewarded with a low moan, "Sarah? You need to wake up, we can't stay here." She held her breath as Sarah turned her head, disappointment flaring at the glazed look in Mac's eyes. Well, at least she had opened her eyes. Caine could have easily killed her, hitting her like that.   
  
Avis couldn't suppress a little shriek when a man appeared next to them. Concentrating on Sarah, she hadn't seen him approach.  
  
"Hush, Miss Payne."   
  
Avis' eyes widened when she realized it was Josiah Rabb. She felt her heart lurch. If he was here then... "Avril! He's here, isn't he? Oh god... "  
  
"Yes," Josiah's voice was tight as he took in Mac's condition. He looked over at Avis, "If you can take her one side, I'll take the other. We need to go now. I'm not going to be able to move very quickly with my leg and I don't know how long Avril can distract them. We didn't have that much ammunition. Try to keep low." Even as he spoke, the fire was slackening.  
  
Avis nodded, taking one of Sarah's arms. She reached over and touched Josiah on the sleeve. "Colonel, we have to take her that way." She gestured towards the fog. Josiah looked over that way, his surprise giving way to sadness as he realized what she was saying. He nodded abruptly, "Let's go."  
  
"I don't think so," Garrett and then Jubal rose up from the side of the road, guns aimed at Josiah and Avis. Garrett smiled as he got closer, "Well, Colonel Rabb, as I live and breathe. Mighta known you'd come lookin' for her." He gestured with the carbine, "Toss out any guns you got Colonel, darlin', an' stand up." Garrett's face grew harder, "Don't be thinkin' of anything heroic or I'll kill you right now an' then these two fine ladies will pay a higher price for your foolishness. I'm feelin' a bit peevish as it is."  
  
Josiah stared at Garrett for a long moment, his expression one of hatred and resignation. Carefully, he lowered Mac to the ground and pushed himself upright. "You'll hang for this," he growled.  
  
Garrett nodded, "That may be, but you three won't be around to see it." He turned slightly as Hobson came clambering down the slope from above the road, "Did you find the other one?" He grunted when the man shook his head, "Get the horses together then, we ain't staying." He looked back at Rabb and motioned towards Mac, "Get her up, Colonel. We're going for a little ride."  
  
With a sinking heart, Avis had watched as Josiah lay Mac back down and struggle to his feet. She stayed next to Sarah, trying not to think of what was coming and what might have happened to Avril. She was the only one to notice the change of expression on Jubal's face as he stood slightly behind Garrett. His eyes were widening in surprise and fear, but he wasn't looking at them, he was looking past. Avis' own eyes widened for a moment when she realized where he was looking. Hadn't any of the men noticed the fog before this? Fear swept through her and she forgot about the fog when Garrett told the Colonel that he was taking them with him. Dying now might be better than what was surely coming. Josiah apparently felt the same way, he didn't budge when Garrett told him to get Sarah up. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice eerily reminiscent of Colonel Rabb, barked, "Don't move!"  
  
After that, everything seemed to happen at once. Garrett spun in a crouch, throwing the carbine up to his shoulder and firing. Jubal had a revolver out and was awkwardly shooting with his left hand. Hobson and the remaining Milroy also dove for cover and opened fire. Josiah dropped to the ground, doing his best to shield both Mac and Avis with his body. The rate of return fire from whoever had challenged Garrett was astonishing. From what he could hear, a second gun had opened up soon after the first from a different angle. In less than a minute, the firing died away. Josiah raised his head cautiously and looked around. Garrett was on his back with a bullet hole in his forehead, eyes still open in surprise. Jubal was nearby, also clearly dead. He couldn't see anything of the remaining men. Awkwardly, he pushed himself off of the two women. "Are you all right?" he asked Avis as he anxiously checked Sarah. Her eyes were closed again but she was still breathing.  
  
Avis nodded, moving up to the other side of Mac. "Sarah?" She rested a light hand on Mac's forehead, "Sarah? Wake up."   
  
She shared a worried look with Josiah and then a smile of relief as Mac's eyes fluttered open. This time her gaze was clear although she looked confused to see Josiah bending over her. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she started to struggle upright. Both Avis and Josiah put a hand on her shoulders and forced her back down. She looked from one to the other, her expression slightly panicked, "Caine? Where is he? What happened?" She brought a hand up to the side of her head and grimaced.  
  
Josiah shrugged, "I don't know. He was hit, I saw that." He froze when he saw Avis tense, her expression one of shock. Bracing himself, he turned as quickly as he could, cursing the broken leg. He got a shock of his own as he stared up at a younger version of himself. He was wearing a light brown uniform of sorts and carrying an odd but lethal looking pistol.  
  
********  
  
Harm bolted into the thick mist, drawing his pistol as he ran. He couldn't see more than a few feet in front but he didn't dare slow down. Mac was in trouble, that was all that mattered. He was abruptly yanked to a halt when a large hand fastened onto his arm. Spinning back, Harm found himself nose to nose with Gunny Walters. He tried to pull his arm free but the Gunny had an iron grip. "Let go of me, dammit!"  
  
"No sir! Not 'til you start thinking again, begging your pardon, sir," Gunny glared at him. "I am not explaining to the Admiral or Colonel MacKenzie about how I let you run into an unknown situation and get your head blown off."  
  
Harm fought down the irrational surge of anger. Walters was right. He'd reacted instinctively, something he knew he could always trust in the cockpit, but this was a different situation altogether. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax, "You're right, Gunny, I apologize. Do you have a plan?"  
  
Walters gave him a lop-sided grin, "'Don't get killed' comes to mind, sir. Just be careful when we reach whatever's on the other side of this. I don't want to get the Colonel killed either."  
  
Harm nodded and the two men resumed their trek, moving at a jog trot. After a minute, Walters touched the Commander's arm and said in a soft voice, "Sir, the road's changed."  
  
Harm glanced down and grunted an acknowledgment, the road was no longer asphalt. He squinted ahead, then missed a step and stumbled when a massive amount of gunfire erupted. Turning a startled look at the Gunny, he was hard-pressed not to go charging ahead. Mac was in the middle of that!  
  
Putting a hand on Harm's forearm, Walters sank into a crouch and gestured that he would take the point. Harm nodded and they cautiously made their way towards the firing. It only lasted a few minutes, ending just as Harm and Walters emerged from the fog. The Gunny immediately moved off the road towards the uphill side, instinctively heading into the shadows. Harm followed, scanning the scene in front of him. It was surprisingly easy to see, the full moon casting a strong light. He stopped for a moment and blinked, a full moon? That had been over a week ago, the same night, in fact, that Mac had disappeared... He looked at the moon again as a shiver ran down his spine. This was unbelievable.  
  
"Sir!" Gunny's hiss sounded from the shadows in front and above him and he hurried over, aware he'd been standing there like the rawest recruit. Crouching next to Walters, he looked down at the road. There were five people on the road, the two facing his way looked like they were holding guns on the other three. At least one of the three was a woman in a long dress. Harm saw with disappointment that she was a blonde. She was kneeling next to someone lying prone on the ground. The third was a man who appeared to have been wounded in the leg. He was listing slightly to the side, trying to keep the weight off. Where was Mac?  
  
Feeling a touch on his arm, he looked at Gunny and then followed to where Walters was pointing. Another man had risen up from the downhill side of the road, holding his rifle at the ready. A few moments later, a man appeared from above the road, alternately sliding and running down the steep slope. He, too, was carrying a rifle.  
  
Gunny tapped Harm's arm again and said in a low voice, "I don't see the Colonel, sir. What do you want to do? We don't know who're the bad guys."  
  
Harm gave him a half-smile, "So we surround 'em and take the whole bunch. We can sort it out later. Maybe one of them knows where she is."  
  
Walters grinned, "Yes sir. Give me thirty seconds to move to a new position and then make your move."  
  
Harm watched him move off, counting slowly and then cautiously made his way down to the road. Taking his position, he held his pistol in a two-handed grip and barked, "Don't Move!" Two of the men immediately spun towards him and started shooting. Harm crouched and returned fire, hitting one man in the head. The other two men with rifles opened fire and then Harm heard Gunny begin shooting. In a matter of moments, it was over. No one on the road was still standing.   
  
Carefully, Harm moved towards the trio that had the woman. He could only hope that they hadn't gotten caught in the cross-fire. He breathed a sigh of relief when the man pushed himself upright. Apparently, he'd shielded the woman and whoever was on the ground with his body. Harm walked forward slowly, scanning the area for any more threats. He didn't want to assume anything. He was fairly close before the blonde woman spotted him. She froze, staring at him with wide eyes. Harm couldn't help staring back, this was Annabel's ancestor, Avis Payne. The man turned then, awkwardly, and Harm realized that he had splint on one leg. He dragged his gaze up to the man's face and felt a jolt. It was his father.  
  
Harm forced himself to breathe again. No, not his father - Josiah Rabb, his father's great-great grandfather. This was bizarre. Josiah Rabb was obviously feeling the same way, he was staring at Harm in open-mouthed surprise. He shifted a little and Harm finally got a look at the person on the ground. His heart gave a lurch when he realized who it was, "Mac!"  
  
Oh God, she had been hurt. He took in the dark stain on the makeshift bandage around her leg as he brushed past Josiah. Meeting his ancestor didn't seem nearly as important as reaching Mac. He dropped to his knees beside her, thankful that her eyes were open. He reached over and brushed her hair lightly off her forehead before drawing his fingers down the side of her face. Harm smiled softly, "Helluva way to get lost, Marine."  
  
Mac blinked and stared, unsure of what she was seeing. Harm? Her vision was blurry around the edges, only the center seemed clear. She slowly reached out a hand and touched his face. He caught it with his own and turned his head to place a kiss in the palm. Mac's eyes filled with tears, "Oh dear god, Harm!"  
  
Harm leaned over and carefully gathered her in his arms, the tightness in his chest finally easing. He'd been so frightened that he'd never see her again. He closed his eyes and sighed as he felt Mac burrow into his chest, thank God he'd found her.   
  
A light touch on his arm caught his attention and he looked over at the young blonde woman. Avril Simpson's portrait didn't do her justice. Avis Payne was a beautiful woman, even with her hair and clothes in disarray. She gave him a tentative smile, "I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. Rabb, but time is becoming critical."   
  
He nodded and gently lowered Mac back down, keeping hold of a hand. He felt an overpowering need to keep in physical contact with her. Harm saw Avis stiffen and then heard a throat clearing behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Gunny Walters standing there with his rifle in his hands. The Gunny looked apologetic, "The immediate area's secure, Commander but I don't know if it's safe. Can't see a thing in the trees. How's the Colonel, sir?" He glanced at Josiah when he saw the man start and then did a double-take. Actually seeing Commander Rabb's ancestor in the flesh was still mind-boggling.  
  
Josiah slowly climbed to his feet, swaying a little as he regained his balance. He looked from Harm to the Gunnery Sergeant, undoubtedly one of the biggest men he'd ever seen, "I'm afraid, with all the commotion, none of us have been properly introduced." He gestured to Avis, "Allow me to present Miss Avis Payne." He looked at Harm, quirked an eyebrow and offered his hand, "And I believe, sir, that I'm your several-times-great grandfather, Josiah Tyler Rabb, currently a Lt. Colonel serving under General Sheridan."  
  
Harm clasped hands with him, feeling a sense of wonder. "Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., U.S. Navy serving with the Judge Advocate General." He nodded towards Walters, "And that's Gunnery Sergeant Rudy Walters, Marine Corps. He's beginning to make a career out of rescuing Colonel MacKenzie."  
  
"Now, sir..." Gunny protested at the same time Mac poked at Harm's leg, "That one's going to cost you, Commander." She was feeling positively giddy. Harm was here. Everything was going to be fine, he would keep her safe. She blinked once or twice, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with weariness. Even the throbbing in her leg was beginning to recede into the distance. She would just close her eyes and rest for a bit. God knew she could use it, considering what she'd been through in the last forty-seven minutes. A quick little nap and then she'd be good to go.  
  
Harm didn't notice her grip slackening. He was distracted by a rustling in the bushes that had him drawing his pistol again. Everyone tensed, and Gunny moved swiftly to one side. Then a man's voice called 'Don't shoot.' and Josiah straightened up, ordering, "Hold your fire." Avril walked out onto the road with his hands held up, just in case. He lowered them quickly when Avis flung herself into his embrace. Josiah turned back to Harm and Gunny with a smile, "And that, gentlemen, is the illustrious Major Avril Simpson, a most fortunate man."  
  
Avis allowed herself a few more seconds in Avril's arms before pushing away. Although she didn't have Sarah's time sense, the feeling that they were running out of time was growing increasingly stronger. She glanced up the road and saw with horror that the fog seemed to be retreating. Avis spun back towards Harm, "You have to go! Now! The window is closing!"  
  
Harm stared at her in shock for just a moment and then turned to Mac, finally noticing that her eyes were closed. He gave her shoulder a gentle shake, his worry increasing when she didn't respond. Oh hell, she'd been awake just a minute ago. Looking over his shoulder, he snapped, "Gunny! I need help, she's unconscious."  
  
Slinging his rifle to his back, Walters hurried over. Carefully, the two men lifted Mac up. Gunny looked at Harm, "How do you want to do this, sir?"  
  
"We'll take turns. I want one of us free to defend if necessary." He gathered Mac into his arms, frowning in alarm at how wet her pant leg had become. Goddammit, she was still bleeding. He started up the road, Gunny taking up the point while the rest of the group stayed with Harm.   
  
In a few moments, they had reached the edge of the fog. Harm stopped and looked at Avis, Avril and Josiah, "Thank you for all you've done for Sarah. I don't know how I can ever repay you."  
  
Avis stepped forward and kissed Mac's forehead, "Take care of her, Mr. Rabb. She's been like a sister to me." She went back to Avril who wrapped his arms around her.  
  
Josiah limped up and kissed Mac as well before glaring fiercely at Harm, "Marry her, Harmon Rabb. She deserves to be happy and time is too precious to waste." He broke into a wry grin, "If you don't, I'll come haunt you. You have my word." He backed away to stand next to Avis and Avril. Avis reached over and put a hand on his arm.   
  
She looked at Harm and Gunny, "Go and Godspeed." The two men standing with her echoed her words. Harm looked at them silently for one more moment and then moved into the fog, Gunny Walters beside him.  
  
From the shadows, Ezra Caine watched the men disappear into the fog. Colonel Rabb and the man and woman with him, stood for a few minutes gazing after them and then slowly made their way back down the road. Caine fingered his revolver, his other hand clamped to his side. This wound was going to kill him but he still had some time left. He looked at the receding figure of the Colonel and then looked back at the fog. Which one? He thought it over for a few more moments and then plunged into the fog. Twice he had failed to kill that bitch, hopefully, the third time would be the charm. With a little luck, he'd have enough time to get word to Colonel Rabb. He could go to his grave with the satisfaction of knowing that news of Sarah MacKenzie's death would kill the Colonel one slow day at a time.  
  
Mac bit back a groan and slowly forced her eyes open. Who the hell was shaking her? Every jolt made the pain in her leg radiate throughout her body. Groggy, she looked out at a thick white mist. Where was she? Slowly, she turned her head. It hurt like hell, too. Mac forced her eyes upward and then blinked, Gunny Walters? Why was he carrying her? She felt the first vestiges of alarm, where was Harm? She'd seen him, she was sure of it.  
  
Gunny felt her shift and glanced down, feeling relief when he saw her eyes open. She was looking at him in confusion and Walters gave her a reassuring smile. He looked up and called softly, "Commander Rabb! The Colonel's awake."  
  
Harm appeared by his side, he'd been ranging around the Gunny as they made their way through the fog. They had to be coming out of it soon, it seemed like they'd been walking forever. He smiled at Mac, putting a hand on her uninjured leg, "Welcome back."  
  
Mac relaxed a little at the sight of him and then looked around in confusion. She was having a hard time articulating words at the moment. Harm gave her leg a pat, "We're on our way home. It shouldn't be too much longer and then we'll get you to a hospital. Just hang on."  
  
It was only a few minutes later when Harm realized that the road was asphalt once again and then they were out of the fog. Harm turned towards Gunny and Mac with a laugh, they'd made it! His smile died when Gunny came to an abrupt halt, staring forward. Harm whirled around to see Annabel standing there with her revolver pointed towards them. Putting out a hand, he tried a placating tone, "Mrs. Simpson... "  
  
Exasperated, Annabel barked, "Move!" gesturing to the side with her gun. Harm and Gunny obeyed with alacrity and then jumped when she fired off two shots. They both turned in time to see the body of a wiry, little man fall forward out of the fog, a revolver dropping from his lifeless fingers and skittering across the pavement. Annabel turned to Harm, "Now it's over." 


	28. Epilogue Part 1

A/N: Well, here's the epilogue to Time Passages. Sorry for the long delay - RL jumped in with both feet, making it difficult to get any writing done. Hope you enjoy.  
  
Epilogue  
  
Friday Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 0720 Local  
  
Mac slowly opened her eyes and stared at ceiling. She was back in the twenty-first century but she wasn't experiencing the elation that she thought she would. Avis was dead and so were Avril, Josiah, Corinna and Deacon. Mac angrily scrubbed at her eyes. It wasn't like they'd all been snatched away in some massive catastrophe but that's what it felt like. Determinedly, she told herself that it was foolish to be grieving over people who'd been dead for close to a century.  
  
She sighed and looked around the sparse and sterile-looking room. The overpowering smell of disinfectant had told her she was in a hospital even before she opened her eyes, as did the thin mattress, hard pillow and stiff, heavily starched bedsheets. Outside her closed door was a constant cacophony of sound. Voices talking, the rattle of carts, the hum of machines, ringing of phones and the constant buzz of fluorescent lights. If she didn't already have a headache, she would surely have had one soon. Irritably, she shifted and inhaled sharply at the pain from her leg. Damn, that had hurt. She looked accusingly at the IV attached to her arm. She would have thought they'd have given her some sort of painkiller.  
  
Mac closed her eyes again. Last night was hazy, to say the least. She only had vague recollections - fleeting, disconnected images of Avis, Josiah and Harm. She was fairly clear about everything up until Caine had smacked her in head. For some reason, she was pretty sure he was dead and not from old age. Trying to ignore the pounding in her head, she attempted to arrange the little bits and pieces that were floating around into some sort of coherent order. Had she seen Annabel last night? Her hand went automatically to her neck and then her eyes flew open in a panic. Where was it?!  
  
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself upright. Goddamn hospital! What the hell had they done with that necklace? They had no right! The little nightstand next to her bed was depressingly empty. Where would they have put her clothes? Looking around the room, she spotted a narrow door. A closet? Maybe... Squinting against the headache that had just intensified, Mac eyed the distance she would have to travel. If she used the bed for support, it would only be a couple of steps on her own. She could manage that. However, there was the bed rail and the IV to deal with. Carefully, she eased herself to the side of the bed and rolled her eyes downward. Her head was much happier when she kept it on an even keel. The IV was on a portable stand - perfect. Now all she had to do was slide the rail down. With a little care, it shouldn't jolt her too badly. The rail didn't want to go down without a fight, but she finally managed it. Mac took a moment to catch her breath. Then she pulled the covers off and set her jaw - moving her injured leg was going to hurt. She slid her good leg off the bed and gingerly prepared to shift the other.  
  
The door opened at that moment and Harm walked in. He stopped dead, taking in the scene, and then he glared at her, "Mac, have you lost your mind? What the hell are you doing?"  
  
"Annabel's necklace. I need to find it." Mac kept her jaws clenched, her leg did not want to be moved.  
  
"What?" Harm hurried to the side of the bed. Mac still seemed determined to get out of bed. He put his hands on her shoulders, "Mac, stop it. You're going to wind up on your face and you'll probably rip your stitches out. It's not that important."  
  
"Yes, it is!" Mac flared and then winced. She ran out of steam suddenly and sagged against his hands, "You don't understand." She let Harm reposition her on the bed.  
  
He got her settled and then raised the head of the bed so she would be upright. Brushing the hair off her forehead, he let his hand linger on the side of her face. "Why don't you explain it to me?"  
  
Mac reached up and grasped his hand, bringing it down to her lap and holding it in both of hers. "I'm not sure I can," she kept her eyes focused on their hands, willing her head to stop aching. At an encouraging sound from Harm, she took a deep breath, "Well... you know how long I was gone?" Harm stared at her, "Of course I do. Dear God, Mac, that was the longest week of my life. There was absolutely no trace of you anywhere. I was going out of my mind worrying."  
  
Mac looked up, startled, "A week? Harm, I was there for three months. It was days before I believed it was anything more than a very vivid nightmare. When I realized... when I accepted... that it was real, I didn't know how I was going to get back or if it was even possible. That necklace became my only link with my life here. Something tangible that I could hang on to whenever I felt overwhelmed with everything that was happening. I've held onto it through hell and high water, literally, and now it's gone." She stared at Harm anxiously, "I have to find it. I need to return it to Annabel. She saved my life when she gave it to me."   
  
"Mac, I'm sure it's okay. The hospital took it for safekeeping," Harm kept his voice soothing although he was becoming a bit worried about her overreaction to what was typical hospital procedure. Hell, it wasn't like they'd never been in one before. Bethesda probably had standing room reservations for them. And Mac thought she'd been missing for months? Annabel had said as much but he was having a hard time accepting it. He was having a hard time accepting the whole thing.   
  
Harm was beginning to doubt what he'd seen last night, or at least, the context in which he'd seen it. It was so far-fetched. Time travel via some mysterious fog? Impossible. Sitting in the dismal little waiting room while they worked on her leg had given him time to construct his own theory about what had happened. In between the initial calls to the Admiral, the Roberts and his parents (all of which he kept decidedly brief: Mac's found, she's injured, we're at the hospital, no word yet), he had worked out the angles of his scenario.  
  
Mostly, it involved an elaborate con and some local survivalist nuts. The only part he figured was true was that Mac had had a car accident that night. Then, either the survivalists had found her or she stumbled across them. Being paranoid, they'd hung on to her. They must have kept her drugged while they decided what to do. (Mac's distorted time sense supported that theory.) The massive search effort probably had them thinking they had a tiger by the tail. Couldn't keep her, couldn't just let her go. Obviously, if they'd meant to kill her, they'd have done it immediately. Looking for a way out, they had approached Annabel.  
  
Some of his suspicions had been aroused last night after the arrival of the local EMS unit and the sheriff. Typical of small towns (Belleville was the same way), everyone knew everybody else to the nth degree. They were all well acquainted with Annabel and no one queried her about finding Mac. It was eerie, in a way, how they skirted around any question of how she had known when and where to look. No mention was made of any bodies being found either. Even the man Annabel had shot had disappeared about the same time the fog did. Harm had to admit, he hadn't been paying strict attention. Gunny had broken out the first aid kit and they had busied themselves working with its limited contents until the professionals arrived. Mac hadn't been very coherent. The paramedics confirmed that she had a concussion.  
  
Once the EMTs had Mac, Harm had walked over to Annabel to see if he could offer any legal support while she talked to the sheriff. It was then that he noticed the fog was gone and so was the body. When he reached her, it turned out she was inquiring after the health of Sheriff Small's family. Not a word was mentioned about all the shooting and if the Sheriff noticed the gun-shaped bulge in Annabel's coat pocket, he never said a word.   
  
Harm had just about decided that the whole thing had been staged for his and Gunny's benefit. The two days Annabel made them wait had let the conspirators gather information on himself to make the con believable. The drawings, the journal and Annabel's spooky, psychic performance created the atmosphere. They'd been primed for the dark foggy night on the mountain. Except that things had not gone as planned. Mac had obviously staged an escape attempt and damn near gotten herself killed. Harm doubted that the plan had called for them to actually rush into the fog. These people hadn't reacted well to the surprise, opting to shoot first and that had gotten a number of them killed. Of course, there were some unanswered questions. What had happened to the bodies? How had they made it appear like a full moon was out and how had they found someone who could be his father's double on such short notice?  
  
"Harm? What's wrong?" Even after an absence of three months and a head that felt like it was being used as a bowling alley, she knew when Harm was hedging about something. "Is Annabel okay? What aren't you telling me?" The doctor walked in at that moment and Mac almost growled with frustration. Something was definitely not right. Harm gave her a quick smile and reassuring squeeze of her hand as he got up and stood beside the bed. Mac was beginning to think he was angry about something. She was relieved that he seemed unwilling to let go of her hand. At least he wasn't mad at her.  
  
Doctor Bradley pulled the chart off the end of the bed and smiled cheerfully at Mac, "Good to see you awake, Ms. MacKenzie. How are you feeling?" He looked over at Harm, "Would you excuse us?"  
  
Mac tightened her grip on Harm's hand, "No, he stays." The doctor looked at her in surprise. Squinting a little, Mac glared at the man. Cheerful doctors usually made her want to throttle them, "And I feel lousy. My head is about to explode and my leg hurts like hell."  
  
"That's to be expected," Dr. Bradley seemed unaffected by her attitude. He pulled the bedcovers away to look at her leg, "You've got a concussion. It's not severe or, obviously, we wouldn't be having this conversation but it's nothing to trifle with either. However, there's no skull fracture and that's good. Your leg is going to hurt for a while but you've been pretty lucky. The bullet missed the bone and had it hit the back of your leg instead of the front, it probably would have severed your Achilles tendon. That would have been a problem."  
  
Mac gritted her teeth and hung on to Harm's hand as Dr. Bradley poked and prodded her leg. He finished up by checking her vitals and making a few notes on her chart. He was out the door before either one of them could form a question. Harm looked over at Mac. Amazement and aggravation were receiving equal time if her expression was any indication. Leaning down, he heard her grumble, "And if a maniac with a chainsaw had shown up, he probably would have severed your head from your shoulders. That would have been a problem."  
  
Solemnly, he said, "I've heard Marines can live a week with their heads cut off."  
  
Mac stared at him in surprise and then leaned against the pillows with a half smile, "Always living life on the edge, aren't you, Rabb?"  
  
Harm dropped into the chair and gave her a smug grin, "It's part of my charm."  
  
"Too true," Mac agreed, shutting her eyes for a few moments. Taking a deep breath, she tried again, "Harm? Will you tell me what's bothering you?"  
  
He stared at her silently, marshaling his thoughts. He should have guessed that Mac would not only pick up on his mood but would pursue the reasons with a bulldog tenacity. Harm was equally certain that he would have to spring his theory on her gradually. It was pretty obvious that she was still confused enough to buy into the whole 'Trip to the Past' scenario and equally obvious that she thought Annabel had played a major role in rescuing her. Meanwhile, she was waiting for some sort of an explanation. Finally, he said, "We're going to have to tell Admiral Chegwidden something. How much do you remember of last night?"  
  
Mac frowned, "Bits and pieces after Caine bounced that revolver off my head." She stared at Harm, "He's dead, isn't he? I seem to think he is but I can't really remember. You were there... and... and Gunny Walters?" She bowed her head and gingerly rubbed her temples, "I can't believe how much it hurts just trying to remember something."  
  
Alarmed at how pale she was becoming, Harm put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back into the pillows, "Stop trying and relax. It'll come back when it's ready. Hang on a sec." He disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a damp washcloth. Folding it over, he placed it on her forehead and smiled when he heard her sigh and mutter 'Thank you.'  
  
"Just one of the many services I offer," Harm said lightly. He turned more serious, "Mac, I gave the Admiral an abbreviated version of last night. You were trying to get away, the men holding you tried to kill you and Gunny and I got there in time. When I talk to him in a little while, I'm going to tell him that you've had some memory loss from the concussion and that it's possible we may never have a full picture of what happened."  
  
Mac frowned and lifted the washcloth up to look at him, "I don't like the idea of misleading Admiral Chegwidden. That sort of thing always comes back and bites you."  
  
Harm leaned back in the chair and spread his hands, "What do you want to tell him? What CAN you tell him? The whole thing's so incredibly implausible. Honestly, Mac, I think a little discretion would go a long way right now. You start talking about running around in the past and your next stop will be a psych ward."  
  
Mac dropped the washcloth back with an exasperated sigh, "You think I haven't considered that? It's one of the things that had me up nights after Avis said she thought she could get me back to this century." Harm was silent and she lifted up a corner to peek at him. The look on his face spoke volumes. Mac pulled the washcloth off and stared at him, "You don't believe me? ... Oh god, you don't! ... Harm, you were there! I remember that much!"  
  
"Mac, calm down." This wasn't going well at all.  
  
"Calm down? You think I'm making all this up! Harm, you had to have seen Josiah Rabb. I know he was there."  
  
Harm sighed, "Yes, I saw a man that looked like my father but how do you know it wasn't some sort of set-up like what Palmer did?"  
  
"For godsakes, that really was Josiah Tyler Rabb, your great-great-great grandfather." Mac gave an exasperated sigh, "Look, I spent weeks talking with the man. He's serving with Sheridan in the Shenandoah Valley and commands a brigade. He was widowed in 1862 when his wife Cassandra Seville Rabb and his youngest son Michael died of fever. In 1864, his oldest son William is a Second Lieutenant in the Union Army, his next son, Alexander, is at the Naval Academy and his daughter, Molly, is home with her aunt and his parents in Pennsylvania." She glared at him, "Exactly how many people have access to that particular piece of information?"  
  
"Mac, I don't know if there was a Josiah Rabb or not and, frankly, neither do you." Harm paused for a moment while he considered how to phrase this so she wouldn't go completely ballistic. He leaned forward and stared at her intently, "I want you to know that I believe that everything you've told me is exactly how you remember it."  
  
"But... " Mac's voice turned deadly quiet and Harm had to force himself not to flinch.  
  
Gamely, he pressed on. They needed to clear this up and quickly. The fact that she had been held hostage for a week and then been injured trying to escape was already going to guarantee her at least one psych evaluation before she could return to duty. He'd talked to the doctors this morning about a blood analysis to see if there were any drugs lingering in her system. It was the main reason that they'd been so chary with the pain medication. They didn't want any adverse reactions until they knew what they were dealing with. Apparently, they had stitched her leg wound using a local anesthetic. Harm felt bad enough that she'd been hurt, it was hard not to feel guilty knowing he was responsible for her continued suffering. "Mac, isn't it possible that what you experienced - what you thought you experienced - was the result of being drugged? That these people who were holding you, kept you in a highly suggestive state and then convinced you that you'd somehow wound up in another century?"  
  
She stared at him silently, disappointment plainly written on her face. It was almost enough to make him abandon his current course of action. Almost. Dammit, he was doing this for her own good, surely she could see that? "C'mon Mac, no one's blaming you for believing anything. It was out of your control. Ingenious, really, when you think about it. There's no point in escaping if you're still in the wrong century. Where would you run? They might have gotten away with it if you hadn't actually tried to escape. It might have still worked out if they hadn't panicked and started shooting."  
  
Mac continued to stare at him, "And that's what you think happened?" He nodded warily. She sank further into the pillows and closed her eyes, "Would you please leave?"  
  
"What?" Harm gave her a startled look, "Mac... "  
  
She cut him off, not opening her eyes, "I'm tired, Harm, and my head hurts too much to try beating it against that monumental ego of yours. Stop talking and go away."   
  
He stared at her uncertainly and then got up with a sigh, "I'll be back in a couple of hours, Mac. Try to rest."   
  
Quietly, he walked out of the room. Mac opened her eyes when she heard the door shut and then closed them again. She should have guessed that he would try to find a rational explanation for something completely irrational. She couldn't even swear that if positions were reversed, she might not have done the same thing. Unfortunately, it still hurt and now she'd feel leery of sharing any of her experiences with him. Damn, this was just what their relationship needed - more items on the 'Don't Talk About It' list.   
  
Harm stood outside Mac's room and shook his head, frowning. That had certainly gone well. Now she was feeling lousy and pissed. He bit back a groan when he saw Gunny Walters escorting Annabel down the corridor.  
  
"Morning, Commander," Gunny Walters smiled at Harm. "How's the Colonel feeling?"  
  
"She's having a rough morning," Harm replied, nodding to Annabel as he answered the Gunny. "I'm not sure she needs any more visitors at the moment."  
  
"I understand, sir." Walters swallowed his disappointment. After dropping Rabb off at the hospital this morning, he had gone to have breakfast at the White Horse Grill. He'd had a fascinating conversation about last night with Annabel and Anthony Wade and he'd hoped the Colonel wouldn't mind talking about her experiences.  
  
"Well, I'll only be a minute," Annabel sailed past a surprised Harm and Gunny.  
  
Harm managed to get a hand on her arm just as she reached the door. "Mrs. Simpson! She's resting."  
  
Annabel shook off his hand, "If Sarah doesn't want to talk to me, she'll let me know. The woman's not shy." With that, she marched into Mac's room.   
  
Harm stood looking at the door and then turned as Gunny stopped beside him. Walters raised an eyebrow. The Commander's reluctance to enter Colonel MacKenzie's room probably meant he'd put his foot in it again. Despite the fact that the two officers managed to act like an old married couple, it was obvious that Rabb had never grasped one of the basic tenets of being a husband. There were times when it was best to just shut up and listen, no matter what your opinion was. He glanced at Harm again, trying to decide if it was out of line to say anything. Mentally shrugging, he decided what the hell, and cleared his throat, "The Colonel mad at you, sir?"  
  
"What?" Harm gave him a startled look.  
  
"You're out here, sir," Gunny pointed out.  
  
Harm sighed, he didn't really want to get into this with anyone other than Mac. On the other hand, Gunny was a potential ally. He would be well aware of the ramifications to Mac's career if they didn't nip this delusion in the bud. Finally, he said, "She's being stubborn about what she thinks happened. I tried to explain how everything probably went down and she got angry. It's not helping that she's still hurting from the leg wound and her concussion," he added ruefully. "I guess I made a handy target."  
  
Gunny was silent for several seconds. Carefully, he asked, "What do you think happened last night, sir?"  
  
Harm glared at him, "I think someone went to a lot of trouble to con us and the Colonel into thinking that time travel is possible."  
  
Poker-faced, Gunny stared back, "Permission to speak freely, sir?" Irritably, Harm waved a hand. Taking a breath, Walters plunged in, "Sir, I think the only explanation for last night is the one you're finding impossible to believe." 


	29. Epilogue Part 2

Epilogue, Part 2  
  
"Gunny! You must be joking," Harm looked at Walters incredulously.  
  
The Gunnery Sergeant shook his head, "No sir, begging your pardon. It's the only explanation that covers all the facts as we know them. Does your theory do that?"  
  
"Well... no, but I haven't worked out all the details yet. C'mon Gunny, anything I come up with is bound to be more plausible than that science fiction story they're trying to peddle us." Harm folded his arms. This was ridiculous. Gunny Walters was the last man he would have expected to buy into this fairy tale.  
  
Gunny folded his arms as well. He could out-stubborn any Squid any time, any place. Tilting his head, he gazed at the Commander, "Tell you what, sir, if you can explain one small fact to me, I'll help you with the Colonel."  
  
Harm eyed the big man, "And if I can't?"  
  
"Then you keep an open mind and listen to what the Colonel and Miz Annabel have to say."  
  
Harm scowled. Walters seemed entirely too smug. Dammit, he was beginning to think unfettered arrogance was a prerequisite for becoming a Marine. He threw up his hands, "Fine! What small fact do you need explained?"  
  
Gunny fought to keep the grin off his face, "If your theory is correct and it's impossible that the Colonel was gone for more than a week, then how did she manage to grow about an inch and a half of hair?"  
  
"What?" Harm stared at Walters.  
  
"The Colonel's a squared-away Marine, sir. She keeps her hair above her collar. Now it's almost to her shoulders. I don't think it's possible for hair to grow that much in just a week."  
  
"How the hell did you manage to notice that?" Harm had a look of disbelief on his face. For the life of him, he couldn't remember if Mac's hair was longer or not. He'd been way too concerned about the rest of her.  
  
Gunny shrugged his shoulders, "I'm in charge of the Marine security detachment at JAG Headquarters, sir. It's second nature for me to notice those types of things." He stood and watched the Commander try to find a way out of his dilemma. He wasn't the type that made many mistakes nor did he enjoy admitting them. On the other hand, he had too much integrity not to acknowledge his errors. At least professionally, anyway, Gunny had no idea how he handled them in his personal life.  
  
*********  
  
Mac opened her eyes again as the door began to open. She couldn't honestly say if she wished it were Harm or not. He had an absolute talent for ticking her off. He also brightened her day just by being in the same room and, dear god, she'd missed him horribly these last few months.  
  
Annabel walked in and smiled when she saw Mac was looking at her, "Sarah, my dear, you don't know how glad I am to see you. Anthony Wade and I have been terribly worried ever since we realized what had happened." She walked up to the side of the bed, "Commander Rabb said you weren't feeling well, so I won't stay long."  
  
Mac eyed her warily, Harm's disbelief had shaken her more than she thought, "Do you know where I've been?"  
  
Annabel patted her arm, "Of course I do, dear. It took a little research to find out exactly when but I did finally figure it out. I'm so sorry you had to go through such an ordeal. It must have been frightening to find yourself in that time period."  
  
The sense of relief Mac felt was surprising, "You believe me?"   
  
"Certainly," Annabel blinked and then frowned slightly, "Your Commander Rabb did not, I take it?"  
  
"No," Mac stared down at her hands, "I don't blame him, really. I was there and half the time I didn't believe it either."  
  
"Men can be such skeptics. He'll come around, dear, he has no choice." Annabel smiled at the questioning look on Mac's face, "Sarah, what happened is true and no matter how he tries to evade, explain or deny; it's still the truth." She paused for a moment, "If it's any consolation, Dubby... your Gunnery Sergeant Walters, believes. I hope you won't mind sharing some of your experiences with him. He was fascinated by the concept."  
  
"Gunny's a good man." Mac's slight smile was quickly replaced by a somewhat anxious look, "Annabel, your necklace - I'm not sure where it is right now. I know I had it last night... "  
  
"I know, dear, I saw it. I imagine the hospital has it somewhere safe. They're usually pretty good about that sort of thing. I'll check with Timmy Rollins," Annabel gave Mac's arm an affectionate squeeze. "You rest for a bit and when you're feeling a little better, we'll discuss whatever you like."  
  
Friday Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1610 Local  
  
Harm poked his head in the room and smiled hopefully when he saw Mac was awake. Shortly after his talk with the Gunny this morning, Dr. Bradley had come by to tell him that there were no odd drugs in Mac's system. They'd gone ahead and upped her pain medication and as a result, she'd been asleep most of the day. She was also stuck in the hospital until at least Sunday, a fact that Harm was pretty sure was going to make her crazy. Mac hated hospitals.   
  
With not much else to do while she slept, he'd put in a call to his grandmother to find out what he could about Josiah Rabb. Her confirmation of what Mac had said had floored him. The enormity of what had happened to Mac hit him then and he had cringed a little thinking about how he'd dismissed the whole thing in front of her. Harm made a firm resolution to himself to do whatever he had to to get back into her good graces. Fortunately, his Marine was fairly predictable about one thing...  
  
He held out a bag, "Truce? I brought food."  
  
Mac smiled back, her sleepiness dissipating rapidly at the prospect of eating something besides hospital fare. "Truce. Get in here, Navy."  
  
Her stomach growled as he walked up to the bed and he grinned, "I was about to ask if you were hungry but I believe I have my answer." He stopped short when she froze, a shocked expression on her face. He put his hand over hers, surprised to find that it was clenched tightly in a fist, "Mac, what's wrong?"  
  
She took a deep breath, a haunted look in her eyes, "I'm sorry. What you said just then threw me a bit. Josiah... " She stopped, reluctant to continue in the face of his disbelief.  
  
Harm stared at her, kicking himself for causing this reticence. Letting go of her hand, he brushed the back of his fingers down the side of her face and then continued down, trailing through her hair. Gunny had been right, it was a helluva lot longer than was possible for a week. Sighing, he settled himself on the side of her bed and looked down at the floor. She watched him with wide eyes. "Mac... Sarah, I just want to say that I... what I mean is... oh hell... I'm sorry. I should have known you and Annabel were telling me the truth. I know it's a little late, but I believe now." He couldn't help the shudder that ran through him. Accepting their story meant that what Annabel had read to him earlier was true also, he'd come close to losing her in the past.  
  
Mac's heart gave a painful little thump at the bleak look on Harm's face. Silently, she opened her arms and he gratefully slid into her embrace. Quietly, they clung to one another, each drawing strength from the other. Somewhere in the back of Harm's mind, a little voice was telling him they couldn't stay like this forever but he was quite willing to ignore it. So many things could have gone wrong - had gone wrong. She might have been easily died back then... Moments later, a loud grumble made him pull back from her with a chuckle, "Your stomach has no sense of romance."  
  
Mac couldn't help smiling, "Sure it does. It just happens to be in love with food." She leaned back against the pillows and raised an eyebrow, "So? What did you bring me?"  
  
Sunday Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 0925 Local  
  
Harm wheeled Mac down to the curb, trailed by Annabel and Anthony Wade. Gunny had gone to bring the car around. She couldn't help wrinkling her nose a bit. After 60 hours or so in the hospital, the outside air was definitely welcome but it was surprising how pervasive the smell of auto exhaust was. It was noisier too, more than she'd become accustomed to in the Valley. Harrisonburg wasn't that big a town, what was D.C. going to be like?  
  
She watched people hurrying to and from the parking lot, many were talking on their cellphones while they walked. Although she had missed the conveniences of the twenty-first century, she'd forgotten about the constant intrusion of technology. Behind her, she could hear Harm and Anthony Wade amicably discussing the various aspects of military life. Annabel moved up alongside her and dropped a hand on her shoulder. Leaning down slightly, she said in a soft voice, "You'll have to give yourself time to adjust to all this again." Mac nodded silently. She hadn't had that much time to talk to Annabel about Avis, Corinna and the rest. She did learn from the older woman that Avis had lived well into her eighties, dying in 1927. She also told Mac about a journal Avis had kept. Mac had already made plans with Annabel to come back and visit after she had recovered.   
  
It wasn't too long before Gunny pulled up. Hopping out of the car, he moved around to the curb to give Harm a hand with Mac. The two men helped her upright and then held on while she got her balance. Anthony Wade hovered nearby, holding the crutches Mac would be taking home with her.  
  
Gunny looked at Harm and then Mac, "You'll be all right while I get the door, won't you Colonel?"   
  
Mac stared at him for a moment before nodding, it still seemed odd to have someone refer to her by rank. Although she'd always defined herself by the Marine Corps, the last three months had been spent in a place where it didn't matter. She'd come to realize that in the back of her mind, she'd felt that she always needed that qualifier in order to have an identity. That if people didn't hear 'Lt. Col. Sarah MacKenzie, USMC', then their first reaction would be 'Sarah who?' Avis and Josiah had proved her wrong.  
  
In short order, Harm maneuvered Mac into the back seat of the government sedan. Anthony Wade leaned in to hand her the crutches and give her a farewell hug. Annabel was next, "You take care, Sarah, and don't forget to call if you feel the need to talk." She patted Mac on the shoulder and then rummaged in her purse, "I almost forgot." Annabel pulled out a small, wrapped box and gave to it to Mac, "A little present from Anthony Wade and I. I think you'll like it."  
  
Mac thanked her and a few minutes later, she, Harm and Gunny were on their way. She stretched out as best she could across the seat and leaned back. The pain medication kept her leg down to a dull throb but it also made her drowsy. By the time Gunny turned on to the Interstate, she was asleep.  
  
Gunny glanced in the rearview mirror and then looked over at Harm, "She's out, sir."  
  
Looking back, Harm nodded, "With a little luck, she'll stay like that until we reach DC." He looked over at Gunny, "What happened is going to have to stay between the three of us. We'll have take a little creative license with any explanations." Mac had told them the whole story yesterday afternoon. It was a calm recitation of facts and even though she'd barely touched on some of the more harrowing incidents, both men knew her well enough to hear what wasn't said. Her guardian angels had been working overtime.  
  
Walters looked somewhat affronted, "Of course, sir. I don't want Colonel MacKenzie to get hauled off to the psych ward after everything else she's been through." He paused for a moment, "How did she feel about it?"  
  
Harm grunted, "About how you'd expect, she doesn't want to lie to the Admiral. On the other hand, she's well aware that the truth is unbelievable. I think we can go with the nutty survivalists holding her."  
  
Gunny raised an eyebrow, "Won't we have to produce some bodies, sir? Admiral Chegwidden will be out for blood."  
  
"Hopefully, he'll accept that the local law enforcement people are looking into it." Harm shrugged and then grinned, "After we got Mac clear, I didn't pay too much attention to which way the bad guys ran, did you?"  
  
"No sir," Walters smiled back.  
  
Sunday Mac's Apartment Georgetown 1440 Local  
  
Mac sat on the couch and looked around her apartment. It felt strange. She was alone for the moment, Gunny Walters was taking Harm to his place so he could get his car and an overnight bag. He had flatly refused to consider leaving her by herself overnight. She couldn't decide how she felt about it. Numb, mostly. Part of it was the pain medication making her feel stupid and lethargic. That was something that was going to have to stop. There was an insidious attraction in feeling so detached and she had no intention of going down that road. She wasn't really sure about the rest of it. Perhaps it was just the natural letdown after achieving the improbable.  
  
Restless now, she scanned the apartment again. Harm wanted her to stay put until he got back, obviously convinced that she'd somehow re-injure herself if he wasn't there to hover. Mac frowned, Harm's protective streak was endearing... and smothering. If she didn't set some ground rules right now, he'd have her wrapped in cotton and safely stashed until he decided it was completely safe for her to get on with her life. She snorted to herself, if that were the case, she might never get out of this apartment again. Making up her mind, Mac leaned over and snagged the crutches from where they rested against the side of the couch. Carefully, she levered herself upright and then stood for a moment, undecided. Now what? She shook her head and chuckled to herself, talk about lack of mission planning. She hadn't thought any further about her mini-rebellion than making the effort to stand up.  
  
The kitchen. She would make herself a cup of tea and after that, take a quick tour of the apartment. Cautiously, she headed for the kitchen. It had been years since she had to maneuver around on crutches. Same damn leg, too. Mac stopped in the doorway and looked in. The smallness of room had never caught her attention before. Now, however, she couldn't help comparing it to what Avis' was like. Granted, she wasn't exactly Miss Suzy Homemaker, but she'd developed a liking for large, airy kitchens. She moved over to the stove and amused herself for a moment, turning the burners off and on. Much easier than a wood-burning stove, Avis would have been thrilled. There was an unexpected prick of tears at the thought and she rubbed her eyes. Stop it, she told herself. There would be time enough to feel the loss later when she met up with Annabel and got a look at the journal. Pulling out a mug, she filled it with water and popped it in the microwave to heat up. After it dinged, she pulled out the now steaming water and dropped in the teabag. Getting the tea to the dining room table required abandoning a crutch but she managed to make it to a chair without slopping too badly.  
  
Mac looked down at the cup as she absently stirred the steaming liquid. It had taken less than five minutes to produce the tea. Convenient, quick and she somehow doubted that Avis or Corinna would think much of it. They both enjoyed the time it took to boil the water and brew the tea. It was a legitimate break in the day to sit, relax, contemplate and converse. Some things didn't need to be hurried.  
  
Finishing up her tea, Mac gazed around the apartment. She stopped when she saw the small, wrapped package on the table by the door. Annabel's present. She'd forgotten about it. Harm or Gunny must have put it there once they got her to the couch. Standing up, she headed over to retrieve the package. One crutch was more convenient to get around on, but two were definitely less tiring. Grabbing the box, she went back to the couch and eased herself back down. Panting a little, Mac grimaced. If this were any indication, she was going to have fun getting back in shape to pass her physical. Hopefully, it would only be a matter of getting her wind back. Strength-wise, she thought she was actually in better shape than before her 'trip'. The nineteenth century was a more physical time. During the six weeks with Josiah and his command, she'd marched with the men rather than ride in a wagon. That she could keep up had been a source of surprise and later a point of pride with the regiment: 'Our mascot is tougher than your mascot.'  
  
While she was with Avis, once she had recovered, the farm chores seemed never-ending. There was wood to chop, stock to feed, stalls to muck out, gardens to hoe, crops to harvest. Mac absently glanced at her hands, they were hard and callused. She'd become pretty handy with an axe, hoe and scythe. She froze for a second, Sheridan! Mac ran a hand through her hair as she looked around the room. Dammit, had she, Avis, Deacon and his family done all that work only to have it burned by Yankee soldiers? Had they taken the livestock? The thought of Avis' sturdy, cheerful little Morgan horses being confiscated for use in the Union Army was awful. Horses were killed with alarming frequency, in many of the same appalling ways as the men. In some ways, it was more horrible. The men, at least, understood what was happening. Mac closed her eyes, why the hell did she have to start that chain of thought? Opening them again, she glanced over at her phone. Would Annabel know?  
  
She looked down at the package that she was now gripping tightly. Sighing a little, she slowly began undoing the wrapping. A few minutes later, she was looking at a handful of cassette tapes. Picking up one, she squinted at the spidery writing and inhaled sharply in surprise. It was entitled 'Avis Payne Journal #1'. She quickly rifled through the rest. There were six, all told. Tucked in at the end was a small card. Mac pulled it out and began to read:   
  
"Dear Sarah,  
  
I know you plan to visit and that you were hoping to read Avis' journal. However, I imagine it might be a while before you can get back this way. (Assuming your Commander Rabb doesn't protest too vehemently. Coming back here probably has him worrying about a repeat performance.) At the same time, I can also imagine that you're worried over those you left behind. With that in mind, Anthony Wade and I have begun these tapes. We take turns reading out loud, Anthony Wade has gotten quite good at deciphering Avis' handwriting. When you actually read the journal, you'll see what I mean. Anyway, dear, I hope this helps ease the readjustment and gives you some closure. Don't forget to give yourself time to grieve. Even though the circumstances were peculiar, it doesn't change the sense of loss. Take care of yourself, I look forward to hearing about my great-grandmother. She was somewhat of a legend in the family.  
  
Love, Annabel"   
  
Wiping her eyes, Mac looked again at the tapes. What a wonderfully kind thing for Annabel and Anthony Wade to do. It certainly explained their absence during her hospital stay. She picked up the first tape and hauled herself upright, hopping a little as she got the crutch situated. Making her way over to the stereo, she popped in the tape and hit Play. There were a few seconds of tape hiss and a rustling noise, then Annabel's voice came over the speakers, "Is that thing working, Anthony Wade? You sure? I don't want to read for thirty minutes and find out it was for nothing." Mac smiled to herself as she listened to a low-pitched rumbling that had to be Anthony Wade. There was a brief pause and then Annabel came back on, "The Journal of Avis Harper Payne Simpson, late August, 1864. ... oh hush, she married him six months later... well, she's MY great-grandmother... yes, I will be that way...fine... here we go: 'Deacon Turner brought me a guest today. He said I would enjoy the mystery. Enjoy might be too strong a word - Sarah is an unusual woman in unusual circumstances... ' "  
  
Mac leaned against the shelves and listened. Closing her eyes, it wasn't hard to imagine Avis' voice speaking the words. She wasn't sure when she started crying or, for that matter, when Harm reappeared. She found herself in his arms, his voice making soothing noises. Half turning, Mac buried herself in his chest, hanging on to his shirtfront.  
  
Harm held on and let her cry. It always amazed him how quietly she did it. He'd brought it up once and Mac had gotten that hooded look that told him this was yet another by-product of her childhood. Finally, she seemed to wind down and he maneuvered them both to the couch. Settling down next to her, he stretched out an arm and snagged a box of tissues off the endtable. Silently, he handed her the box and waited. When she'd finished dabbing at her eyes and blowing her nose, he quietly ventured, "Do you want to talk about it?" For the life of him, he wasn't quite sure what had her so upset. Mac didn't cry easily. He would have understood if it had happened right after her return. Just like the 'Archangel' case, the sudden transition from peril to safety meant the relief from stress had to come out somehow.  
  
Mac plucked a few more tissues from the box while she considered his question. She did need to talk about it, but with who? Try as he might, Harm could only guess how all this affected her. How could he understand that she'd grown close to these people from another era and missed them terribly? That she missed Avis' snug little house with its rose gardens and the smell of fresh baked bread mingling with woodsmoke. Missed the conversations, chess games and singing while you worked. She went still for a moment as the realization struck. She was homesick.   
  
She turned the thought over in her mind and examined it. The feeling was certainly novel. There was no way in hell any of the places she'd lived during her childhood had ever felt like home. Homes were supposed to be safe havens and there was nothing safe about the MacKenzie household. However, her father did teach her how to create her own little sanctuary - all it took was alcohol. It took both her parents to drive home the lesson that trusting other people was a sure way to pain and disappointment.   
  
She'd given up the alcohol but not the instinct to insulate herself, at least until she had slammed headfirst into DC and Harmon Rabb, Jr. It had been a long and sometimes frightening process. She'd spent years perfecting her defenses and it hadn't been easy, allowing anyone in. Harm had been one of the first and was probably the furthest past the walls. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, Avis was... had been a close second. There'd been no point in trying to hide anything from someone with her sensitivity and, as a result, Mac had been more open with the young woman in those short six weeks than she had ever allowed herself before. Not that she had taken to babbling, of course, but the experience had been illuminating. She'd finally gotten a taste of what family life could be like and she found herself envying what Avis had had.  
  
"Mac?" Harm looked at her worriedly. He'd been exasperated to find her up when he returned. That had changed to concern when he realized she was crying. What was wrong now? She was home and safe. He shot a quick glance at her leg. He didn't think she'd hurt herself again. Mac's usual reaction to pain - physical, anyway - was anger. She would have been swearing, not crying. The stereo was on but volume was too low for him to tell what was playing. Mac had been practically leaning against a speaker and he had been focused on her.  
  
She had been staring at him for what seemed like the longest time but Harm could tell she wasn't really seeing him. Taking a deep breath, he moved in closer and tried a different tack, "Mac, what was Josiah Rabb like?"  
  
Mac blinked, looking startled, "What?"  
  
"Josiah Rabb," Harm repeated patiently, "What was he like?"  
  
She couldn't help smiling, "In a lot of ways, he was just like you."  
  
Harm smiled back and opened his arms, "Why don't you settle in here and tell me all about him?" 


	30. Epilogue Part 3

Part 3  
  
Monday Mac's Apartment Georgetown 0930 Local  
  
Harm finished up the breakfast dishes. He'd talked to the Admiral on Sunday and wrangled one more day of leave to keep an eye on Mac. Her readjustment to the twenty-first century was a lot rougher than he had expected. He thought she would have been... well, perhaps not deliriously happy, but at least glad to be home. Instead, Mac had been more moody than not. Part of it had been dealing with the pain. Once she was away from the doctors, she refused to take anything stronger than ibuprofen. Knowing her as he did, that decision hadn't really surprised him. He had been surprised that she had seemed so... well... depressed - like she'd lost her best friend. That definitely hit him the wrong way. How could she have gotten so close to these people in such a short amount of time? It rankled - it had taken him years to get past her defenses, a task that was still ongoing. He'd done his best to suppress the resentment he was feeling and, fortunately, she was too preoccupied to notice.  
  
The situation was helped somewhat when he showed an interest in the people she had met and, although he had asked about Josiah Rabb more in desperation than anything else, he'd become interested in spite of himself. Mac had first-hand knowledge of not only his ancestor but a time in history that had previously been nothing more than dry dates. He'd been amazed to find that his several-times-great grandfather had known Sturgis' several-times-great grandfather. They hadn't gotten much further that evening. Once Mac had calmed down, exhaustion had swamped her. She hadn't even offered a token protest when he hustled her off to bed.  
  
This morning, she seemed to be feeling better. Carefully, over breakfast, he had opened the discussion again about her experiences in the Shenandoah. Mac told him about Fitzgerald and Billy, Dr. Morton, Mott and Henry Hanrahan. Harm kept plying her with questions and eventually they had worked their way back to why she'd been crying.   
  
Resentment had flared again, what had that crazy Annabel been thinking? As far as he was concerned, those tapes were just exacerbating Mac's problems. These people were dead, dammit! How the hell was she supposed to get on with her life when she let herself wallow in the past? With an effort, he swallowed his feelings. Mac obviously had no idea how this was beginning to eat at him and he wasn't about to tell her. Instead he decided to join her and they had listened to the rest of the cassettes, nestled together. The tapes, which began when Mac first showed up on Avis' doorstep, continued through the next five years. As he listened, Harm became a little more reconciled to the whole situation. If he was totally honest with himself, this glimpse into the past was fascinating. The young woman he had met so briefly had turned out to be an observant and interesting writer.   
  
Harm felt Mac go still when Annabel reached Avis' account of the ball. It gave him a little bit of warning. She had told him and Walters about the attack by Mary Patrick but hadn't said much more about it other than the cut had become infected and it had taken several days longer to recover. He'd listened with growing horror as it became clear how close Mac had come to dying. He finally hit 'Pause' and they both sat there in silence. At last Mac shifted a little and said in a quiet voice, "Harm?"  
  
He took a deep breath, "Why didn't you tell me how bad it was? I had no idea."  
  
She shrugged a little. She couldn't tell from his voice if he was angry or not, "I survived. What difference does it make to know the details? It doesn't change anything."  
  
Harm exhaled in exasperation, "For godsakes, Mac! I could have lost you! I think that's worth mentioning."  
  
He grunted as she braced herself against him sit upright. Turning so she could face him, Mac also looked exasperated, "What would you have me say? I don't remember that much and Avis didn't tell me anything afterward." She glanced over at the speakers as she marshaled her thoughts. Her voice grew quiet again, "I thought I was going to die and I remember being angry that I had survived Ezra Caine only to be taken out by a flesh wound." She hesitated a moment, "I was angry at you, too."  
  
"Me?" Harm eyebrows rose in surprise. "I wasn't even there."  
  
Mac smiled wryly, "That's why I was angry. You were supposed to be there. Butch and Sundance, remember?" She sighed, looking down at floor, "I wasn't all that coherent at the time."  
  
Harm watched her for a few seconds and then reached forward, gathering her into his arms once again. His voice grew lighter, "You're a Marine, you don't how to be coherent. That's why the Navy is in charge of taking you places." He gave a quiet 'oof' when she smacked his chest. Grinning at her muttered 'stupid Squid', he picked up the remote and hit 'Play'.  
  
It took until halfway through the second tape to get to the night Mac returned to her own time. Harm held Mac a little more tightly when he felt her tense, listening to Avis' view of what had happened. He knew her recollections were hazy. Grateful once again to have her back with him, he listened to Annabel's calm voice:  
  
'It's done and we're home. I pray that Sarah will be all right and that they returned safely to their own time. It is frustrating that there is no way to reassure myself. It will be a matter of faith, I suppose. I was surprised upon our own return to find Deacon and Chandra waiting in my home. They are true friends and neighbors. Chandra kept herself busy by taking over my kitchen. I had no idea how hungry I was until I walked in the door and smelled her heavenly cooking. I couldn't help thinking that Sarah would be sorry to miss this. Home will be quieter now; already I feel the emptiness.  
  
After dinner, we told the Turners what had happened on the mountain, leaving out the exact method of Sarah's departure. As far as they're concerned, her people showed up in the nick of time and took her back North. Colonel Rabb excused himself early on, claiming his leg was bothering him. We respected his wish to be alone. This is now twice in his life that he's lost a woman he's loved. I hope he will recover - he had to know that Sarah belonged to another.   
  
It's late now and I can hardly keep my eyes open as I write. The grief I feel is wearying. My head knows that Sarah is not truly gone but my heart feels the loss. Thank God I have my Avril, he will help me through this time.'  
  
Harm hit 'Pause' again when he felt Mac's shoulders begin to shake. Keeping her wrapped in his embrace, he stayed silent, unsure of his own feelings at the moment and half afraid to ask her about hers. It was disconcerting to know that his ancestor had been in love with Mac. Annabel's words came back to him about how Mac might have also been falling in love with Josiah Rabb. A sharp stab of jealousy hit and he did his best to quash it. Mac had come home. She'd chosen him, not Josiah.   
  
Harm called a break, they had been listening for several hours. He needed to stretch his legs and to put some space between him and Mac. The last thing he wanted was for her to pick up on his unsettled mood. Fortunately, he had a legitimate excuse to retreat. Moving to the kitchen, he took his time assembling lunch for them both. By the time he was finished, he was feeling more reasonable. Lunch was eaten quietly, Mac seemed pensive. When they were done, Harm overrode her protests and cleaned up. Finally, he moved back onto the couch and positioned himself so Mac could once again lean back against him. She gave him a look he couldn't quite decipher and then turned around and settled in. After a few moments, he asked quietly, "Ready?" He saw her nod and hit 'Play' on the remote.  
  
'It has been two days and Avril and I have yet to talk fully about what happened. Men. He hates when I'm upset and assumes by not talking about it, these past events will not continue to torment me. He scurries away when I bring it up, finding chores that need doing at that very moment. Thank goodness for Corinna, I find I can talk to her about almost anything, including her lunkheaded son. I was beginning to think that Avril had sustained some sort of head injury and he was keeping it from me. She tells me that unmarried is synonymous with untrained. I, in common with the rest of my gender, will have to educate my man if I am to have any hope of not throttling him.'  
  
Harm snorted at that and then grunted when Mac elbowed him in the ribs. They continued to listen.  
  
'I believe Col. Rabb plans to leave soon to rejoin his army. I will try to get Avril to convince him to stay a bit longer. It is too soon for him to endure the rigors of Army life with his leg. Hopefully, that discussion will lead to more. He needs to talk to someone about Sarah's leaving. I cannot help him. While he is outwardly as polite as always, I'm afraid he's not particularly happy with me right now. After all, I was the instrument by which he lost someone he loved.  
  
Sheridan is drawing nearer. There is a constant pall of smoke over the Valley now. I don't understand how men can so wantonly destroy a place as beautiful as the Shenandoah. It seems like a sin against God.  
  
*****  
  
Four days now since Sarah left and the rumors that are flying before the invader grow wilder all the time: 'They are burning everything to the ground and sowing the land with salt. Babies are being tossed into the fires. They're hanging old men and young boys and women are being abducted from their homes.' Deacon keeps us apprised of Sheridan's progress and most of the rumors. There are some he refuses to repeat in front of me.   
  
Avril dismisses most of them but Col. Rabb becomes incensed when he hears these tales. I don't doubt part of his rage comes from shame. He is an honorable man and he's having a difficult time with such blatant and callous treatment of civilians. Would that all Yankees felt as he does. He fights to keep the nation together but he does not hate us. There has been loss suffered enough on both sides without adding such bitterness. The end of this war is coming, I can see it, as can anyone with clear vision. What I can't see is the aftermath but I fear it. There will be such pain and sorrow for our country. It will pass. Sarah has shown me that and it gives me hope. I will not become despondent.   
  
The Colonel has decided to stay on a bit longer. He says he has no need to search for his army, they are coming to him. I believe he hopes to repay my hospitality and Avril's friendship by curtailing any excesses when the soldiers come. He, Avril and Deacon have had their heads together for the last two days. I am not privy to their plans. Avril tells me, repeatedly, that it will be better to be honestly ignorant of what they'll be doing than to try to lie to the Yankees. He looked surprised when I told him that I would try to think of his explanation as a compliment.   
  
*****  
  
They came today. That I still have a roof over my head is solely due to Col. Rabb. We had several hours' warning. Deacon had his sons out watching. When it became clear they were heading for our farms, Avril and the Turners gathered the best of the livestock and headed up the mountain. They hoped that the Yankees wouldn't notice the few that were missing.   
  
Col. Rabb put on his uniform and met the troopers in the farmyard. They were soldiers in only the strictest sense of the word. Uniformed brigands would be closer to the truth. Immediately, they broke into small groups and spread out over my farm. I stayed on the porch and attempted to put up a brave front. It wasn't long before my fields were on fire and then the barn and silo.   
  
Callous and hardened men, they laughed as the work of generations went up in flames. Then they advanced on the house, intent upon thievery and destruction. The Colonel stopped them. While he could not prevent them from carrying out their orders, he could and did keep them from exceeding their authority. I've seen Col. Rabb angry before, but never in such a towering rage. He blistered the hide off the arrogant young Lieutenant in charge of the detail.   
  
It was then, in a day full of unpleasant surprises, that Col. Rabb delivered another. He commandeered a horse and left with them. Part of it, as I found out later, was to protect as much of Deacon's property and family as possible. I shall miss Josiah Rabb and I hope he finds it within himself to be happy once again. Life is too short.  
  
It was several hours after the Yankees left that Avril and the Turner men came down off the mountain. Even though they had been expecting something like this, I think actually seeing the destruction was a shock. Deacon hurried to his own home while Avril joined me on the porch. I suppose I should be grateful there was no wind today. Col. Rabb's wrath notwithstanding, my house would have burned as well.'  
  
*****  
  
I know I said I would not become despondent but it is hard. The food I put up this summer and fall will have to last through the winter. With economy, it will be barely enough. Thank God, Colonel Rabb kept them from the house or I wouldn't even have this much. The smell of smoke permeates everything and I can hardly stand to go outside. Avril rigged a temporary corral for the horses and AnnieSue. We will need something more permanent to shelter them for the winter. The barn and outbuildings will have to be replaced as well but how? I can't afford it. What little money I have I will keep for emergencies. Avril isn't much better off, his pay (when he actually receives any) is in Confederate currency. It is worthless.  
  
Still, we have been fortunate, so many are homeless and destitute. We are a conquered land and there is much bitterness and hate. I can hardly blame them. How did we ever achieve peace? Yet, we must have, for Sarah was proof. How I miss her, she would have found some way to raise my spirits. I still expect to see her walk into the kitchen at any moment.   
  
Avril went into town to see how his mother fared. He came back, laughing. The town was virtually untouched except for whatever horses and livestock the troopers could gather. Apparently, the officer in charge also turned a somewhat blind eye to looting. One intrepid soul attempted to pilfer Corinna's home and was routed by the industrious use of a broom wielded with energy and efficiency by my future mother-in-law. She chased him out into the street, to the vast amusement of his comrades, all the while haranguing him about his manners, upbringing and probable eternal bachelorhood. Corinna and the Yankees then reached a warrior's agreement: they would leave her belongings alone and she would refrain from using her broom.  
  
I can't help chuckling every time I think of Corinna knocking the stuffing out of that hapless soldier. I imagine he now has quite a different idea of genteel Southern womanhood. Heaven knows we could use any opportunity to smile. Speaking of which, I smile when I think of what Sarah would say if she knew that Mabel escaped the Yankees by hiding in my kitchen. Mabel came through safely but Roger may never recover. He was deeply offended by her presence and shows his displeasure by shunning me in the daylight hours. Nights are different, he creeps onto my bed when he thinks I'm asleep and then leaves before first light. I cannot speak to him when he's like this and will just have to wait until this little fit of pique runs its course. When I think about it, his expression when he looks at Mabel is much the same as Sarah's was.'  
  
Harm hit the 'Pause' button. He could feel Mac's shoulders shaking again but he was pretty sure she wasn't crying. "Alright Colonel, who the heck are Mabel and Roger?"  
  
Mac twisted around in his grasp so she could look at him. Harm was quietly relieved to see she was smiling, "Mabel was a chicken and Roger was Avis' cat."  
  
Harm arched an eyebrow, "Roger's a cat? Shouldn't Mabel be the one who was offended?"  
  
Mac arched an eyebrow back, "You never met Attila the Hen. That chicken could've taken on a SEAL team with one wing behind her back."  
  
Harm chuckled as she turned back around and settled against him once again, "Don't tell the Admiral that, you'll find yourself stationed in the Aleutians." He hit 'Play' and they listened as Avis' life unfolded.  
  
Avril finally rejoined General Gordon in time for the retreat from Petersburg and the subsequent flight of the Army of Northern Virginia. It ended with Lee's surrender to Grant in the McLean home at Appomattox. Avril was reunited with Josiah Rabb once again as the Southern army stacked its arms for the last time. Lincoln was assassinated the following week and all hope of a gentler reconciliation between the two regions died with him. Reconstruction took a hard line with many in the North clamoring for the execution of the treasonous Southern leaders, including Robert Lee. Reading such vitriolic hyperbole in Northern newspapers filled Avis with dread. Lee, already a legend among most Southerners, had been instrumental in preventing the type of guerilla warfare that had turned Missouri into a nightmare of murderous retribution. Hanging him would have been a disaster for she was certain that any number of men would have gladly sought revenge.   
  
Fortunately, Grant (the hero of the hour) refused to deviate from the terms of surrender. All Confederate soldiers who had lain down their arms, returned to their homes and abided by the law would be unmolested by the government. If the Northerners were looking to punish Lee, they would have to settle for what had already been done. By turning Arlington into a national cemetery, they had guaranteed that he and his family would never be able to return home. They compounded that act by confiscating Lee's family possessions which included items handed down from George Washington. Nine days after Lincoln's death, Avril returned to the Shenandoah. He and Avis were married on June 1st, 1865. One year later, their first child, a son, was born. They named him Franklin Josiah Simpson in honor of Avril's father and Josiah Rabb. Avril and Josiah maintained their friendship and a regular correspondence. Colonel Rabb had resigned soon after the end of the war and returned home to Belleville, Pennsylvania. He tried his hand at farming for a short time and then ran for county circuit court judge. He won handily and soon developed a reputation for his integrity and no-nonsense approach to the law.  
  
It was still a struggle for Avril and Avis, although they were better off than a number of others. With the Morgan team and Deacon's mules, the two men worked together on small freighting jobs. Avril hunted to put meat on the table while Avis maintained a small truck garden. Rebuilding the farm was a slow process. In the fall of 1867, their second child was born. This one was a girl whom they named Sarah Wilton Simpson after Sarah and Corinna, who was one of the Wiltons from Front Royal. Josiah Rabb came down for the christening, bringing his seventeen year-old daughter Molly. Both his sons had remained in the military. William was posted in Nevada and Alexander was at sea on his first deployment.  
  
In 1868, Avis recorded the shocking murder of Axel McNair by Mary Patrick. The men of the town searched the mountain for several days but no one was able to find her. The uproar over the killing had just begun to die down when Avis set it all off again by contacting Sophie McNair Anderson to tell her what had happened to her parents. The Andersons promptly moved to back to the Valley where they were snubbed by everyone except Avis, Avril and, surprisingly, Corinna.   
  
The formidable Mrs. Simpson continued to be a force to be reckoned with. Mindful of the lesson learned with Sarah, as well as Avril's friendship with Rabb, she followed her own path during the difficult Reconstruction. At a time when it was social suicide to having dealings with Yankees, both Avis and Corinna talked to whom they pleased. The only difference between the two was that Corinna had no qualms about taking someone to task, no matter which side of the Mason-Dixon line they were from. There were grumblings from the town at first but it died away as people reconciled themselves to the two women's behavior. Avis, it was remembered, had always talked to everyone and anyone, black or white, rich or poor. As for Corinna, when it became clear that she was scathingly impartial with practically everyone (fools were fools, as far as she was concerned), she found herself being approached by both sides to mediate disputes.   
  
In 1869, Sophie and her husband, former Captain Peter Anderson, left for Stanardsville and were never seen again. Search parties scoured the mountains but neither the Andersons nor their buggy was found. Rumors began to crop up about Mary Patrick and old stories of similar disappearances resurfaced. Avis and Avril kept silent. The last tape ended in 1870. By then Avis had three children, two boys - Franklin and Matthew, and Sarah. The most momentous news was the death of Robert E. Lee. The South, still reeling from the devastation of war, plunged into mourning.  
  
Avis noted that Josiah Rabb entered the world of politics, winning a seat in the House of Representatives. He had yet to remarry and seemed to have no inclination towards it even though (according to letters from Molly) he was vigorously pursued by sundry and assorted ladies. He was now a grandfather, his son William had married in 1869 and they had just had their first child, a boy. Alexander was also recently married, but had not yet had any children. Molly moved to DC to help her father. She ran his household and played hostess at countless dinners. Avril would make the trip to Washington, on occasion, to meet with his friend.   
  
The last entry on the tape was Christmas Day, 1870. Avril surprised Avis with a pair of kittens, which made her cry. She had lost Jolly Roger earlier that month. The tom cat had reached the ripe old age of fourteen before dying quietly in his sleep. Josiah and Molly came up from Washington to visit. Deacon, Chandra and Erazmus came over as well. Avis, Corinna, Molly and Chandra repaired to the kitchen to put together a sumptuous feast, leaving the men to amuse themselves and the children. Avis fretted about her offspring in the hands of mere males, but both Chandra and Corinna overrode her concerns. Fortunately, for Avis' peace of mind, the men acquitted themselves admirably. Dinner was a convivial affair and Josiah Rabb offered the first toast to absent friends and family.   
  
Anthony Wade read the last of Avis' entry: 'Another Christmas has come and gone. It was good to see Josiah again and Molly is now a beautiful woman. The Colonel (I can't help thinking of him that way) laughingly talked about fending off the hordes of suitors that swarm about her. Knowing Josiah and seeing Molly blush makes me think he's not joking. Poor Josiah, he still thinks of Sarah. I can see it in his eyes. It must be hard to come back here where the memories are strongest. Molly pulled me aside tonight to ask about Sarah. She has mixed feelings about her. She dotes on her father and resents the pain Sarah's departure caused. On the other hand, anyone her father could love had to be special. All I could tell her was that Josiah fell in love with Sarah knowing full well that she loved another. Rather than calming her, my statement seemed to fire her resentment all the more. Now Sarah was guilty of leading her father on and toying with his affection.   
  
I probably should have left her to her ire; after all, there is no chance that she will ever meet Sarah MacKenzie. However, I felt the need to defend my dear friend. Somewhat forcefully, I told her that Sarah had been honest with Josiah from the very first and it had been his decision to pursue her. That seemed to deflate Molly and she suddenly appeared as a young girl rather than the grown woman that she is. Finally she asked how it was that her father could have tried something so dishonorable as to attempt to steal a woman who was spoken for. She looked so forlorn that I felt somewhat ashamed of myself for saying anything. I found myself explaining more of Sarah's situation than I would have under normal circumstances: That she had been far from her home and it had been a good possibility that she would be unable to return. From what I could tell, Sarah did have feelings for Josiah but suppressed them. I honestly believed, both then and now, that if Sarah had had to remain here, she would have married Josiah in a heartbeat. Hopefully, my vehemence convinced Molly for we were called back to kitchen duty moments later. We spoke no more on the subject.  
  
It's a beautiful night tonight. After the children were put to bed and Corinna and the Turners had gone home, we sat out on the porch and watched the stars. It is cold and clear but Avril's embrace is warm. Is this how it was that blessed night in Bethlehem? How easy it is to believe in God when contemplating such vastness and beauty. I thought about Sarah. How I miss talking to her. Is she watching these stars as well? I hope she's happy and safe. Harmon Rabb seemed like a fine man.'  
  
When the tape ended, Harm sat feeling somewhat bemused. It was disconcerting to hear his name mentioned in a diary from over one hundred years ago. He was caught by surprise when Mac struggled to her feet and asked him to give her some time alone. He tried not to feel hurt but it was hard. He would have thought she'd need someone to comfort her. Jealousy reared its head again, did she want to be alone to think about Josiah Rabb? He managed to get out of the apartment without saying anything. Harm found himself over at Sturgis', venting about how Mac had shut him out after all he'd gone through for her.  
  
Turner sat silently, waiting for his friend to run out of steam. It had been a long day at JAG and finding an irate Rabb on his doorstep was the last thing he'd been expecting. At last, Harm turned to him with a scowl, "Aren't you going to say anything?"  
  
Sturgis leaned back, eyeing the tall aviator, "What do you want me to say? She asked for some time alone. What's the big deal? She didn't tell you to never come back, did she?"  
  
Harm's frown deepened, "No! Of course not... it's just that... dammit!" He turned around, running his hand through his hair. How the hell could he tell Sturgis what was eating at him without spilling everything? Turning back, Harm waved a hand, "Is it too much to ask that she let me in? I just don't want her to through this alone."  
  
"Alone?" Sturgis snorted, "Harm, you've been with Mac constantly since you and Gunny found her. Give the woman a break. I can't even imagine what she went through. Give her a chance to deal with it without having to worry about your reactions."  
  
"My reactions?!" Harm sputtered a little, "Why the hell would she worry about my reactions?"  
  
Turner resisted rolling his eyes. Harm, on occasion, could be incredibly obtuse, "Man, you get angry if someone gives Mac a threatening look. These nuts came close to killing her. That must be hard enough to deal with, without having to handle you, too."  
  
"Oh for pete's sake, Sturgis, I'm not getting angry at her. She doesn't have to handle anything." Harm stared at Sturgis.  
  
The Commander leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "Harm, it doesn't matter that you're not angry with her. If she's the only one there when you go off, then she's the one who is going to bear the brunt of it, whether you intend it or not. Frankly, I doubt Mac needs the stress. Her leg is still hurting, isn't it?"  
  
Harm collapsed on couch, exasperated, "Yeah, she won't take anything stronger than aspirin." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, "We're a couple. I thought we were supposed to go through this together. Isn't that the deal? Dammit, every other woman I've known couldn't wait to share every feeling she's had since she was ten."  
  
Sturgis chuckled, "Good God, Harm, since when has Mac ever been like every other woman you've known?" He gave Harm an appraising look, "Besides, aren't you the one who leaped at the assignment with Admiral Boone? What was that all about?"  
  
Harm shifted a little, "It was a great opportunity to work with Boone again, that's all." He glanced at Sturgis and shrugged, "Okay, so things were a little tense for a while and I thought the space would do us good. Who knew she'd get herself into so much trouble while I was gone?" When he saw Sturgis shaking his head, he added defensively, "What?"  
  
Sturgis stared up at the ceiling for a moment and then looked at Harm, "Man, I'm going to assume you haven't been saying anything like that to Mac. Otherwise you'd probably be at Bethesda right now having a crutch removed. You make her sound like some dizzy female who's constantly in need of rescuing. She's a field grade officer in the Marine Corps, a damn good attorney and the JAG Headquarters Chief of Staff. At the least, I think she deserves your respect."  
  
"What the hell are you talking about?" Harm glared at Sturgis, "She's always had my respect! That's not the issue... " He paused and took a deep breath, "Look, I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I'm just frustrated as hell. I hate it when she clams up like this."  
  
Turner looked concerned, "Wait a minute, you mean she hasn't talked to you at all?" This was entirely different.  
  
"No, no, no," Harm resisted the urge to kick something. He should have never started this conversation with Sturgis. It was impossible to say what was bothering him. How the hell did he explain feelings of jealousy over a man who'd been dead for close to a century? He climbed to his feet, "Look, I'm sorry I unloaded this on you. You're probably right about Mac needing a little space and I guess I'm overreacting. I'll see you tomorrow at JAG."  
  
Sturgis stood up as well, "Don't worry about it. Tell Mac I was thinking about her." He walked Harm to the front door, "If she's feeling up to it, maybe Bobbie and I can drop in on the weekend and visit. We'll keep it short, maybe bring dinner or something over. What do you think?"  
  
"Sounds like a plan," Harm smiled at his friend, "I'll talk to Mac and let you know." He gave Sturgis a friendly clout on the arm as he headed out, "Thanks, man."  
  
"Not a problem," Turner leaned against the doorjamb and watched as Harm climbed into his SUV and drove off. Shaking his head, he went back inside. Would life get any easier once those two were married? Somehow, he doubted it.  
  
*******  
  
Mac found herself in the kitchen after Harm left. He'd gotten that closed look that told her she'd hurt him again. Wearily, she sat down at the table and rested her head in her hands. She probably could have handled it better but the fact was, she needed some time alone right then. Goddammit, once again she had managed to ruin another man's life. Josiah would have been a helluva lot happier if he'd never met her.  
  
Her leg began throbbing again, it matched the pain she was feeling inside. This wasn't something she could talk to Harm about. She would have had to been blind not to see the flare-up of jealousy when he heard that Josiah had been in love with her. To his credit, he had throttled it back and moved on. Surely, he must have realized that it was foolish to be jealous of his own ancestor but Mac wasn't about to goad him by discussing the matter with him.   
  
She glanced at her phone for a long moment and made a decision. It wasn't that late yet. Picking up the receiver, she punched in Annabel's number. After a couple of rings, she heard Annabel's voice say 'Hello?'  
  
Mac took a deep breath, "Hello, Annabel? It's me, Sarah MacKenzie."  
  
"Why Sarah, how good to hear your voice. How are you feeling, dear?"  
  
"Ummm, I'm not quite sure at the moment," Mac's voice broke just a little. "I wanted to thank you and Anthony Wade for the tapes. That was a wonderfully thoughtful present."  
  
"Mmm-hmm, you're quite welcome. You listened to them already, haven't you?" Annabel's voice sounded concerned. "What's wrong, dear?" She paused for a moment and when Mac didn't answer right away, said, "I hope you're not regretting what you did back then. If you hadn't been there, I might not have been born."  
  
"What?"  
  
Annabel smiled at the incredulous tone in Mac's voice, "Sarah, you were fulfilling a destiny and I'm quite grateful."  
  
"But... but... you were already here before I wound up back then. I don't understand." Mac could feel that familiar ache start as she tried to decipher this latest paradox.  
  
"Ahhh, but you had been there one hundred and thirty-nine years ago and you saved Avis Payne's life. When we first met, you just hadn't left yet." Mac didn't have an answer to that and after several seconds of silence, Annabel asked gently, "Does this have anything to do with Josiah Rabb?"  
  
"How... ?"  
  
"Dear, I've read Avis' journal. Although you didn't talk to her about it, she was a very perceptive woman."  
  
"I ruined his life, Annabel. He never remarried." Mac bit her lip, waiting for Annabel's reaction.  
  
"Oh nonsense, Sarah. That was his doing, not yours. Blaming yourself is incredibly self-centered. You don't have that kind of control over other people." Annabel paused and then, to take the sting out of her rebuke, asked in a lighter tone, "Would you like to hear of an interesting coincidence that I've discovered?"  
  
"I... um... sure," Mac hadn't been expecting that reaction from Annabel. Anger flared at first and it took her a moment to catch up when Annabel switched gears on her.  
  
"Wonderful, now bear with me for just a moment." There was a pause while it sounded like Annabel was shuffling papers, "Okay, you remember that Avis' oldest daughter was your namesake?"  
  
"Yes, wait - did Avis have more children?"  
  
"She had eight altogether, six of whom survived to adulthood. Now Sarah Wilton Simpson married a Thomas Culver from Hagerstown in 1890. She had five children who survived. Her middle son, Randolph Culver moved to York, Pennsylvania and married Ruth Ponder in 1912. In 1938, their youngest daughter, Sarah, married a John Rabb of Belleville, Pennsylvania." Annabel stopped and waited expectantly. Sarah didn't disappoint her.  
  
"What?!" Mac's jaw dropped. "Harm's grandmother is Avis' great-granddaughter? Oh my god, and Harm is... "  
  
"Avis' great-great-great grandson. So you see, dear, you saved his life as well."  
  
Following Sunday Mac's Apartment Georgetown 1930 Local  
  
Harm stuck his head out of the kitchen when he heard the knocking. They were expecting Bud, Harriet, Sturgis and Bobbie. Their friends had been patiently waiting for the chance to welcome Mac back in person. Harm had been keeping them updated on her recovery. Fixing Mac with a glare, he hurriedly dried his hands on a dishtowel, "Stay put. I'll get it." He'd helped her to the couch earlier and had made dire threats about the consequences if he found her moving around while he was busy in the kitchen. Well, they had started out as dire threats. Unfortunately, Mac had started grinning at him and now the consequences were something he was looking forward to. Things were finally getting back on an even keel for which he was eternally grateful.   
  
"Harm?" He looked over to see Mac eyeing him with concern, "Do you want me to get the door?"  
  
He flushed a little, shaking his head and grinning sheepishly, "No, no. Sorry, I just lost track for a minute." He strode over to the door, aware that her questioning gaze was still on him. She'd been doing that a bit more lately. Apparently, he hadn't been as successful as he could have wished at hiding his bouts of resentment. She hadn't gotten to the point of questioning him about it and he had no intention of saying anything.  
  
Opening the door, he welcomed the Roberts family in. He picked up little AJ, in part to keep the child from throwing 40-some exuberant pounds into Mac's lap and onto her still-healing leg. It also gave Bud and Harriet a chance to get in their own embrace with their friend. Sturgis and Bobbie showed up five minutes later, laden with bags from a local restaurant. The evening went by quickly. Their friends kept their questions about what had happened to Mac to a minimum. Her vagueness with her answers to the few they did ask confirmed the story that Harm had spread - that she remembered very little of what had happened during that week. Fortunately, there was more than enough to talk about. Mac was quite clear about everything up to the accident. She, Sturgis and Harm had the others laughing as they compared notes on dealing with the infamous and incredibly garrulous Master Chief. Then Bud and Harriet happily caught Mac up on the comings and goings over at JAG.   
  
Later in the evening, they broke up into groups. Bobbie, Harriet and Mac had their heads together. Harm figured from the occasional looks and outbursts of laughter, that the men were their topic of conversation. He turned back when Sturgis touched his sleeve. Bud had taken AJ to Mac's spare bedroom after the little boy had fallen asleep in a chair. Sturgis glanced over at the women, "Everything okay, Harm?"  
  
"Yeah, it's fine," Harm sipped on his beer. "Mac's got an appointment at Bethesda on Monday. If all goes well, she'll be cleared for light duty. I talked to the Admiral, she can be back at JAG by Wednesday. Hopefully then, everything will get back to normal. She's starting to get a little crazy with the inactivity."  
  
Sturgis eyed his friend, "Well, that's good to hear but not what I meant. Are you two okay?"  
  
Harm shrugged, "Yeah, sure. We're good." He glanced over towards Mac and then looked back at Sturgis with a rueful grin, "With a little luck, maybe we can have another uneventful six months."  
  
Sturgis raised his glass, "Amen to that."  
  
~ Finis ~ 


End file.
